


Truth Be Told

by AlyxSvoboda125



Series: The Industry [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Bad Decisions, Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, F/M, Filming, Friends to Lovers, Genderqueer Character, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, London, Los Angeles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Social Media, Tumblr, Twitter, United Kingdom, it's complicated - Freeform, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:18:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 61
Words: 214,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5283545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyxSvoboda125/pseuds/AlyxSvoboda125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Beck is a golden boy, acting royalty, and a rare child star with only a handful of scandals to his name and no secrets...except his sexuality. Patrick Gallagher is his best friend, costar, and straight, Charlie's 100% convinced...except that he isn't and that's a secret he'll hold onto as long as he deems it necessary.</p><p>To the world, they're best friends, costars, and roommates, but away from the camera they're two men who met in the wrong place, at the wrong time, under the wrong circumstances with secrets between them that could destroy what they've built and a truths that could ruin the careers they've carefully built. They could be worth the risk, but are they willing to find out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Not Today" by Twenty One Pilots

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: sweetlysadieaus@gmail.com

Subject: RE: Ticket Confirmation

Charlie—

I did exactly what you said and reserved you a ticket back to LHR from SNA Orange County (fucking expensive wth?) Delta then Virgin Atlantic, leaving a noon and get in around 10am GMT. Aaron confirmed he’ll pick you up from Heathrow.

Thanks again for the job xx

\--Sadie

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Last hurrah @VansWarpedTour before I’m off to London #warpedtour #withtheband

 

**Bittersweet Surrender (@bittersweetsurrender)**

@VansWarpedTour hanging out with our fav little actor from the motherland @StPatty_

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** You’ll never guess who I just saw!!!!!

 **Charlie:** Do you want a hint?

 **Charlie:** You want a hint don’t you?

 **Salem:** Stahp!!!!!

 **Salem:** You’re actually evil.

 **Salem:** Leave me to my tinkering

 **Charlie:** …tinkering with what exactly babe?

 **Salem:** Omg why do I know you?

 **Charlie:** ;)

 **Salem:** Go enjoy warped and leave me to die

 **Charlie:** Lmao ok drama queen

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Wow @VansWarpedTour the smell of weed is thick in the air today

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Xavier:** God save me please do not tweet while high

 **Charlie:** I’m not?

 **Charlie:** I’m a little drunk though tbh

 **Xavier:** This isn’t a joke Charlie

 **Charlie:** Ok I’m 18 not 8

 **Charlie:** Ive been famous about as long as you’ve been micromanaging careers

 **Charlie:** I know about discretion

 **Xavier:** I’m taking precautions to protect you

 **Charlie:** I fucking worked for DISNEY. I know how this works

 

**Kelsie Klein (@KelssssBells <3)**

:* dreams really do come true @StPatty_

 

**Crystal from Kensington (@CrysKenYo)**

I met @StPatty_ AND @CharlieBeck all in one day! Like who else is trolling @VansWarpedTour ?

* * *

**June 2015**

“So I see you’ve been off having fun,” Torin commented with a tone that bordered dangerously on bitter as he dropped onto the sofa beside Patrick.

With anyone else, Patrick might have leered and joked that yes he most certainly was, but Torin was…not there yet.  Would probably never be there.  This whole ‘why don’t you come see us play Warped’ had been a spur-of-the-moment decision intended to try and maintain a friendship that Patrick had known instinctually would never work between them.  Torin threw himself too deep into their relationship for them to just shake hands, kiss cheeks, and makeup as friends like none of their shared, small town sixth form romance had never happened.

Tilting his head back and running a hand through his overgrown dark hair, Patrick shook his head and studied Torin’s pinched expression for long enough that the other man huffed in annoyance.  Patrick rolled his eyes.  “What did you think I was going to do when I came here Torin?”

“You don’t have to flaunt all your gross little sexcapades right in my face?” Torin snapped.

Raising his eyebrows, Patrick pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, his fingers instinctually performing the routine assembly without even looking. When he’d finished, Torin pulled out of a lighter and lit it with a single, practiced motion; Patrick didn’t respond as he leaned forward until the end smoldered, pulling in a deep breath and releasing a cloud of smoke.  Fuck he wished his had some marijuana for this conversation.

They’d been dancing around it since Patrick had arrived in Pomona from where he’d been vacationing in Big Sur until his move back to London.

That had been the plan.  A _holiday_.  Not a passive-aggressive attempt at reconnecting and reestablishing a friendship with his ex-boyfriend during one of the biggest rock/alternative/screamo music festivals in the country. Whatever.  He could play ball…and Patrick had doubted Torin would let it go otherwise.

Following one more drag of his cigarette, Patrick met his ex’s melancholy gaze and sighed.  He _really_ wanted marijuana.  “Torin—”

Torin shook his head and cut him off.  “I thought you came here so we could work things out.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded, “our _friendship_. We can’t…” he sat up, gaze focusing with laserlike precision on the man in front of him who looked entirely too much like a depressed, hangdog, beaten puppy for the amount of leather, studs, and grim tattoos smudged under black warpaint currently adorning his lithe frame.  “You didn’t think we were going to work out our _relationship_ , did you?”

Throwing his arms up, Torin got his feet, throwing back the last of his beer and glaring at the bottle like it had personally offended him. “I guess the fuck not! God, what is wrong with you? Do you even _have_ feelings?”

“Tone it down,” Patrick purred, relaxing even further on the sofa, lips pressed together tightly and a dangerous quirk to his lips. “Don’t act like _I’m_ the bad guy here.  You knew what this was supposed to be.  _You_ deluded yourself into thinking this was more than what it was.”

“Yeah I’ll bet.  That’s what our whole relationship was!”  Torin shouted at him.

“Fucking hell,” Patrick cursed, rising from the sofa stiffly to shoulder passed Torin to the trailer’s refrigerator, the lit cigarette still perched in his fingertips as he bypassed beer to get straight for the bottle of Jack Daniel’s stored at the back by the band’s lead singer for ‘hella fucking emergencies.’ He’d apologize later…or buy him another…or _whatever_. This was a fucking emergency; relationship talks were not Patrick’s forte, apparently.  Torin had been his first and only long-term relationship, and after this hellacious intercession, probably his last until he needed a walker, Viagra, and dialysis three times a week.

Torin crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him, “Lovely, Patty, really.”

“Like you haven’t drank you weight in whiskey when you’re overwhelmed.”

“I _haven’t_ during a fucking discussion, because I actually like to _pretend_ I’m an adult. Do you even see yourself right?”  Torin hissed at him.  “We were together for _two_ years, and you can’t even have a _conversation_ with me without downing half a bottle of Jack in under two minutes and chain-smoking!”

Patrick ran a hand through his hair again, faking a smile as he took another gulp of his whiskey.  “Why are we doing this, Torin?  You knew that me coming here wouldn’t fix anything, you _had_ to know.  We broke up because we’re not compatible anywhere except a bedroom.”

“No,” Torin corrected Patrick, seething.  “We broke up, because you refuse to acknowledge you have a relationship.”

“I’m an _actor_ ,” Patrick whirled on him, “not a drummer in an emo rockband where depressed tweens in too much eyeliner who OD on skinny jeans and band merch eat that sexuality shit up. _I_ live in the real world where my career is still tenuous _at best_ , and the types of parts that play don’t get given to people who suck cock!”

The door was yanked open, and Corey, the band’s lead singer, stood outlined in the opening, arms crossed over his chest as he glanced between the two of them with narrowed eyes and an irate expression directed almost primarily at Patrick. “What the fuck is going on here, lads? Because everyone in half a mile radius can hear the pair of you screaming at each other, which, I assume, Hollywood over here would rather not have happen.”  He leveled his gaze on Patrick with a dare in his eyes.

Forcing a smile, Patrick shook his head and put out his cigarette on the rim of the sink, smirking when he noted Corey’s grimace.

“Just getting scolded by my mother for getting drunk, high, and shagged.”

“You’re such an arsehole,” Torin spat furiously.

Patrick laughed humorlessly as the band’s guitarist stepped out from the back where the bunks were, shaking out his scraggly bedhead as he glared at Patrick through his hooded, sleepy eyes.

“Fucking hell, _both_ of you,” Quinn moaned.  “A man can’t even get any sleep around here without drama.  Sort yourselves out, fuck’s sake anyway.”

He plucked the glass bottle from Patrick’s fingertips and finished it with three hard swallows, pointing between the three men blearily. “We have to be on stage in like an hour. All I want to do is sleep. Fuck.  Take your problems back to Ireland.  Swear to God.”

“Sorry mate,” Corey apologized even as he tossed Patrick a poisonous look. “Still here then, Gallagher?”

Quinn lowered the bottle and crooked an eyebrow at his bandmate. “That’s kind of what I meant before, Corey.  _Antagonism_ isn’t gonna get me any sleep, is it?”

Patrick turned to Quinn and huffed, squeezing the bridge of his nose and trying to control his breathing.  It took him considerably less time to cool down that it had to work him up, and he reached out to grasp Quinn’s forearm in a wordless thanks. “Sorry, Quinn. I’ll just be off before I ruin your sleep patterns anymore, yeah?”

“Probably best,” Quinn whispered to him.  “It _has_ been great seeing you, lad, but Torin’s still…well…”

 _In love with you_.

He didn’t _say_ it, but, then, Quinn didn’t have to.  Everyone who knew Torin—even independent of Patrick—knew that.  Patrick had been asked about ‘that rockstar who’s crushing hard on you’ in one too many interviews and received more than his fair share of ‘fix it fucker’ looks from his manager and agent to last him a lifetime. That, of course, hadn’t been the sole reason Patrick had decided it would be better they split.

Frankly, after two years being ‘high school sweethearts’—as Torin’s American bassist had termed it—the fact that Torin’s undisguised affection made him uncomfortable rather than charmed had been the biggest clue.  He might be a sexual being but great sex wasn’t everything. Certainly not worth risking his career over.

Nodding, Patrick gave Quinn’s arm a squeeze, and Quinn nodded back once, eyes following Patrick as he made his way out of the trailer without once looking back at Torin and deliberately brushing shoulders with Corey who only stepped a few centimeters to the side to allow him exit.  He wasn’t intimidated by Corey.  Not after spending the last few years sitting in boardrooms with Pitbulls and sharks around Hollywood.

Pausing just on the outskirts of the crowd, Patrick pulled out another cigarette and focused on his priorities.

Priority one: alcohol.

 _Any_ alcohol.

Priority two: …music?  Maybe?

Asking Alexandria had yet to play.  We Came As Romans.  He wasn’t sure about Black Veil Brides, though.  _That_ he’d have to check.

Lighting up, he made a mental list in his head and made his way through the crow of half-dressed young adults who’d stripped down earlier beneath the beating sun to bare pale, skinny chests and bikini tops, some streaked in body paint that someone had likely passed around, and more than a few advertising ‘free hugs.’  He snorted. He knew personally that free hugs turned into blowjobs behind the bathrooms really fast.  The smell of weed loitered in the air, and the temperature had dipped down to something bearable as the sun set.

It wasn’t until he settled on the periphery of the crowd gathering around for Black Veil Brides to come on stage and finish out the evening with a nearly empty cup of Guinness in one hand and a joint in the other that he felt himself relax.  Leaning against the tree, Patrick tilted his head back to the sky and let the contentment wash over him. Faceless in a crowd of hundreds. A cacophony of indistinguishable chatter.  The scent of fried food, beer, and marijuana mingling together beautifully in the air.

 _The lack of his ex-boyfriend chewing him out of feelings—or lack thereof—he could hardly control_.

The moment shattered abruptly when he felt a body collide with his.

The stumble dislodged the beer from his hand and sent it tumbling to the ground to splash and soak into the fabric of his ancient Vans. Reaching out automatically to steady the giggling man— _hold that thought: kid…boy…teenager_ —who’d slammed into him, Patrick heaved a long-suffering sigh as he looked up to find himself met with a head of glossy golden curls.

“Whoops. Fuck.  Hi.”

Still giggling, the teenager steadied himself by gripping Patrick’s forearm with one hand while the other clung to his waist, pulling them in close together as he struggled to find his footing over the exposed root of the tree.

Patrick quirked an eyebrow as he let the kid adjust and find his balance, breathing in the scent of cardamom, rosemary, an undertone of just _nature_ …and beer.  Cheap beer.  _A lot_ of cheap beer.  “You’re absolutely hammered,” Patrick laughed slightly as the teenager shifted to rest his hands against Patrick’s chest, shaking his head and giggling again as he just collapsed against Patrick’s body.

Startled, Patrick managed to catch him in some semblance of a hug, blinking in surprise before glancing down to find a pair of glazed sapphire eyes peering up at him from beneath thick dark lashes.  He nestled closer to Patrick and giggled again as he nodded profusely, “Yup.”

Fucking hell this kid was smashed, adorable, and…familiar, though Patrick couldn’t place where he’d have seen him before.

Forcing himself away from that particular line of thought, he took a drag of his joint, smirking when the kid’s face pinched in a blatant grimace. He mashed his nose against the fabric of Patrick’s shirt, taking a deep breath.  _Like I said, fucking adorable…and a baby…right?_   “Are you even legal?”

Blinking thoughtfully, the kid frowned, eyes zooming in on the blunt. Patrick saw it coming but didn’t react, allowing the kid to pluck the marijuana out of his fingers with a curled upper lip and drop it on the ground, squashing it under the sole of his sleek black Prada sneaker.  _That_ had him drawing back, because what kind of kid goes to Vans Warped Tour in Prada sneakers?

“You good now?”  Patrick teased, lip curving up in a smile as he watched the kid’s eyebrows draw together as he thought that question over.

“You asked…what?”

“Are you legal?”  He asked, slower.

Devolving into another round of giggles, he rested his forehead against Patrick’s collarbone, wrapping his arms around his waist.  “Not here.”

So he was somewhere then, which made Patrick feel mildly better about a drunken teenager cling to him like a koala.

The UK, Patrick guessed, given the clipped and decidedly posh London accent undercutting the kind of silken, melodic voice that would be welcome and praised in radio.  Sighing, Patrick shook his head.  “How did you even get served?”

With a ‘what are you talking about smile’ the kid pulled back slightly to tap Patrick on the nose, “She knew me.  Liked me.  Propi…proppit…propo…sititionin me? Yeah?”

Patrick couldn’t contain either the smile or the laugh as he nodded in understanding; stilling when he finally thought over the words, he looked back down at kid in his arms.  “How did she know you?”

Instead of providing an answer that in anyway made any kind of sense—though what did he _actually_ expect from a teenager so smashed he couldn’t even follow the thread of conversation—he received a smoldering look and a coquettish smile, hands moving from where they’d been gripping the fabric of his shirt to skim his sides and rest low on his hips.  Smashed, seductive, and simultaneously adorable was a deadly enough cocktail to kick start Patrick’s libido, but ‘smashed’ and ‘unknown age’ worried him enough to maintain just enough distance between the pair of them.

“No,” Patrick caught his wrist and held them up against the kid’s own chest.

Pouting, the teen leaned into the hold and tilted his head up. “Please,” he purred.

 _Fucking hell he needs to stop_. Patrick shook his head, doubling his determination.  “You’re wasted.”

“And you’re baked,” he had enough awareness to reply.

Okay, Patrick would concede that was true.  Still…no.

“I don’t even know how old you are,” he tried, hold loosening just enough for the teen to slip through his hold, twining his arms around Patrick’s neck and pressing their bodies together.

“Legal enough,” he responded.

 _Nonono._   The rational part of his mind apparently forgot to let him know that it had divorced the reactionary part.  _That_ part he would blame from now until eternity for moving to this unnamed person’s—God help him it would scar him for life if he mentally kept calling him ‘the kid’—waist, slipping beneath his tank top to brush against his skin.  Shivering, he pressed closer and licked up Patrick’s neck as he fingers tangled in his hair.  He pressed a kiss beneath’s Patrick’s ear.

_Fucking hell._

“I don’t even know you’re name,” he finally said, resolve dissolving under the bright, dimpled smile.

Standing on his tiptoes, lips pressed against his, and Patrick moaned, tugging him closer.  He whispered into Patrick’s mouth with a smug, triumphant smile, “My name’s Charlie.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...honestly though I'm nearly a quarter of the way into writing this and waited so long to post because I couldn't decide on a title I liked.
> 
> This one is going to have a bit of a different format for the first...half...about half. Because: flashbacks. I'll mark which chapters are flashbacks and to when at the top, but right now it stands that every third chapter will be at least until I get to kind of why the status quo is the way it is. I could say something profound about the stylistic choice, but really no one wants to read almost three years of mutual pining and I don't want to write three years of pining...so I'm doing them in flashback form and moving us quickly along until we get to the good stuff.
> 
> Also my plans for this story got out of control. I have a definite plan of attack for the way the whole story is going to go and wow is it going to be a doozy. Prepare for a good deal of Salem because he's here and I love him dearly.


	2. "Call It What You Want" by Foster The People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie comes home (2017: present day for the purpose of this story)

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** Im back

 **Salem:** I’m horny :(

 **Salem:** And have a bf.

 **Charlie:** If it’s not Bailey I doubt I care to know

 **Salem:** You’re my best friend! That’s your only job!

 **Charlie:** I also have a life.

 **Charlie:** Dude with a face wont last long

 **Salem:** Cause you’re one to talk…

 **Charlie:** :P

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@EvelynOfficially)**

Breakfast in bed with the bae @StPatty_

 

**RT by @Salem_Daiki**

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Imma vom like tmi like I can’t unsee that mental image #fuuuuuuuuck

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Mummy:** Darling let me know when you’re back home so we can do a dinner

 **Charlie:** Sooner than you think J

 **Mummy:** Coy doesn’t suit you -_-

 **Charlie:** :D

 

**Our favorite celebrity power couple it quits!**

It’s been rumored for months that British heartthrob, Charlie Beck, and his _Angelfall_ and _World After_ co-star, Devon Rousse, have re-kindled their on-again off-again romance than began at the onset of shooting April 2016. “They’re very close,” a source close to the stars said, “but they’re both leery of jumping into a relationship when Charlie will be back to London come autumn.”  Regardless, the couple seemed to have thrown caution to the wind halfway through shooting. They pair were seen having a romantic date in San Francisco’s Ocean Beach and at Sur (as seen on _Vanderpump Rules_ ) not far from Rousse’s Beverly Hills home throughout the course of their shooting. With Beck’s return to London imminent, sources say the young actor has broken it off again.  “Devon’s devasted,” a close friend revealed, “she thought things would be different this time around, but he’s still as much of a player as he’s always been.” We don’t know if we’d call Beck a ‘player’ but he’s certainly a…virile, sexy nineteen-year-old male. What can we say? We’re obsessed.

 

**YOULL NEVER EVEN GUESS!!!!! (@spn_etrl_fangurl)**

Thought it’d be just another boring morning shift but I met @CharlieBeck!!!!!!!

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Sadie:** Did Aaron text you to let you know he’s @arrivals waiting for yo lazy ass?

 **Charlie:** He did! Not my fault baggage claim is taking forever

 **Sadie:** Your fault you stopped for a coffee

 **Charlie:** Did you just take a flt from LAX? Like 14hrs on a fucking plane!

 **Sadie:** You have an interview tomorrow. Fyi

 **Charlie:** omfg I havent even been in the country an hour yet like ugh

* * *

Charlie heard the barking from the moment his feet hit the sidewalk, and it didn’t deteriorate in the slightest as he took his Louis Vuitton luggage from Aaron, tossing the backpack over his shoulder and dropping the duffel bag as he reached out to pull the familiar, burly man into a hug.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he grinned.

Aaron, who doubled as a part-time driver and nearly full-time bodyguard, had been with Charlie since his pre-pubescent tween years on Disney Channel. He’d been a replacement for his usual bodyguard during a movie premiere in Hollywood, a burly African-American man with a shaved head, collection of tribal tattoos, and blindingly pearly white teeth who’d taken one look a wide-eyed thirteen-year-old Charlie and said ‘follow my word to the letter and maybe I’ll be able to keep you alive.’ Charlie had hired him the very next day full-time, and the man had made the move with him from Hollywood back to London when he’d been hired to work on _Ethereal_ two years earlier.

“Just this once,” Aaron teased lightly, squeezing him tightly before releasing him with one of those blinding grins.

“Stop!” Charlie joked over the barking, “I need sunglasses.  None of that.”

“Fuck off you tit,” Aaron laughed as he released him, readjusted his shades and quirking an eyebrow.  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.  Ten am, bright and early.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Shut your damn dog up too before the neighbors riot,” he called as he made his way back to the driver’s side of the car.

Rolling his eyes and hefting the bag over his shoulder, Charlie gave Aaron a two-fingered salute as the man rolled down the window to beam at him one last time before peeling away from the curb.  Sighing, Charlie turned back to the charming, fenced-in brick house that had been his home since late 2015.

Fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket, Charlie opened the gate carefully, already fully aware of the overexcited canine on the other side, doubtlessly working himself into some kind of frenzy.  “Alright, alright,” he chided when the little black nose peeked through the slightest opening of the gate, panting excitedly. “It’s like you haven’t seen me in years, Snow.”

Quickly closing the gate behind him as he wedged his bag through the narrowest opening he could create, Charlie smiled down at the fluffy, bone-white, three-legged Alaskan Klee Kai.  Snow had been a spur of the moment decision at one of those outdoor pet adoptions pet stores in America hosted for shelter animals.  Their director hadn’t been impressed when a quick trip to grab lunch between takes had ended with Patrick and Charlie returning with a three-legged puppy who’d yipped mournfully and had a habit of stealing food directly from people’s plates.

“Hi baby,” Charlie stroked his head, relishing the silence and allowing the dog to trail him across the small, overgrown front garden to the front door. What even was she doing out here? Charlie and Patrick both much preferred letting her out in the back garden to avoid her leaving unwelcome and unexpected… _gifts_ for them to step in when they stumbled home from filming after midnight. It had happened too many times for them to go against the grain.

Opening the door quietly, Charlie stepped inside his house for the first time in three months, dropping both his bags to the right of the door and breathing in deeply. It lacked the smell of the mildly scented Yankee Candles Charlie enjoyed lighting the way it had when Charlie went away last summer for filming, but even still the light click of Snow’s nails against the wood floors and the natural light spilling in from the numerous windows brought a smile to Charlie’s face.

Dropping his keys on the side table, he toed off his boots by the foot of the staircase and padded across the hall into the kitchen.

Snow had already settled onto one of her many floor pillows, laying her head on her paws and watching Charlie with bright, mournful eyes that made him feel guilty about spending three months abroad.

Raising his eyebrows, Charlie crossed his arms over his chest as he flicked on the kettle and pulled his favorite mug down from the cabinet. Leaning against the counter and meeting his dog’s sad eyes, he raised an eyebrow.  “Stop it.”  Snow whined and dropped his eyes while Charlie huffed out a laugh. “Honestly, if I don’t work who’s going to feed you and treat you like the absolute empress you think you are?”

The dog’s head shot up suddenly, and he tilted his head as rapid footsteps on the steps became audible.  Charlie frowned and turned his head as a familiar figure appeared in the doorway in only one of Patrick’s oversized Ireland t-shirts.

Evelyn Merritt froze in the doorway upon seeing Charlie whose eyebrows rose. Snow dropped her head back on his paws with a huff, eyes moving between Charlie and Evelyn.  _Fuck’s sake even the dog knows_. Her mouth dropped open in surprise while Charlie poured the hot water into his mug, blowing on it lightly as his eyes remained on her, fumbling where she stood, waiting.

He gave her a finger wave.

“Oh my God, you’re back!”  She exclaimed, tugging on the hem of her shirt self-consciously, as if he was even mildly interested in anything she had to offer.  His eyebrows rose higher.  “I’m so…” Evelyn whirled around and ran out of the room.

Charlie’s gaze went to Snow who cocked her head in response. “Lovely, puppy.”

Without dwelling on it, Charlie turned to strain his teabag, dropping it into the trash and opening the fridge, wincing internally.

Patrick tended to live on takeaway and pasta when Charlie was away, not even because he couldn’t cook, but primarily because he was a lazy fucker and would rather _not_ if he had the choice.

As expected, the inside of the fridge caused his lips to curl and his eyes to narrow.  Leftover pasta, chocolate cake, expired yogurt, three bottles of Evian water, beer, vodka, more beer, a half-eaten container of fried rice, a box of pizza, and orange juice. “Fucking,” Charlie trailed off when he noticed a small carton of milk in the back behind the stockpile of Guinness. He pulled it out gingerly and smiled when he noted that it hadn’t expired yet.

_God bless._

He poured a dash into his tea before closing it up again and putting it back, stirring the drink as he eyes went back to Snow expectantly.

“Have she been here the whole time?”

Snow’s eyes darted away, and Charlie crooked an eyebrow as he sipped his tea, humming thoughtfully.

An exhale drew his attention back to the entrance where Patrick stood, chest heaving, dark hair mussed and tousled, eyes both bright and cautious.

It would really do wonders for Charlie’s heart and libido if Patrick stopped being so absolutely gorgeous, though that hope hadn’t helped him the last two years since he’d first laid eyes on him through a drunken haze and contact high with the amount of marijuana in the air.  It didn’t help now.  Probably wouldn’t ever.

Vain hope.

Patrick had that Colin Farrell/Colin O’Donoghue dark, sexy, and Irish thing that had women—and probably a fair few men, Charlie included—drooling. He had feather dark hair that managed to be both short enough to be clean cut for award shows and long enough to be shaggy with perfect eyebrows, a light dusting of stubble, and thick eyelashes women paid good money to replicate.  Lean, tall, but with defined muscles displayed evidently by his lack of a shirt and a light coating of neatly groomed chest hair that always went whenever they began filming and an intricate, spooky Halloween tree tattooed on his side, he had Charlie’s mouth-watering.

 _Cool it,_ he told himself firmly.

Charlie compensated for being so caught off-guard by his best friend’s attractiveness that he went for annoyance, pursing his lips and glaring at Patrick over the rim of his mug.

“You’re home!”  Patrick said brightly, ignoring the look completely and beaming happily.  Charlie melted a little, and Patrick grimaced. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Charlie insisted despite how much it absolutely wasn’t.

“It isn’t,” Patrick responded, knowing Charlie altogether too well. “I know you don’t like her.”

_No shit._

“I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”

“We have interviews and a table read tomorrow.”

“Right,” Patrick trailed off, shifting awkwardly as he rubbed the back of his neck with evident discomfort.

Charlie stared at him stoically, unable to take the guilt-stricken, shamefaced look on Patrick’s face for too long before he’d placed his mug on the counter and bridged the distance between them to wrap Patrick in a hug. He pressed his face into Patrick’s collarbone as they embraced tightly, holding onto to each other as if Charlie had been gone years instead of a few months, and as if Patrick hadn’t flown to Los Angeles when they’d been shooting at the film studio three weeks into their separation.

Patrick always smelled like the Dior Fahrenheit aftershave Charlie had jokingly given him as a Christmas present two years ago that he’d consequently become obsessed with, but now he also smelled slightly of Evelyn’s classic Chanel No.5 perfume that never failed to make Charlie’s stomach churn and his heart hurt just sharply enough to have him pulling away from Patrick. Patrick who watched him step away pointedly and lean against the kitchen island with a forced blasé expression few people could see through with a stricken expression he didn’t bother to school.

“If I knew you were coming home…” he started uncertainly.

“She’s your girlfriend,” Charlie replied tonelessly.

It sounded reasonable enough, but God help him they both knew that his tolerance of Evelyn in their home was bare-bones _if that_.  Half the time, he avoided her presence like the plague by going on long walks with Snow around the area or hiding in his room, and the other half Charlie tended to go on wild club nights where he got pictured kissing numerous women for the paps and getting off with one man or another in the loo until he stumbled home drunk when the sun was just peeking over the horizon.

“But you…”

Charlie cut him off swiftly and shortly, “It wasn’t a problem, but if you keep talking it’s going to be one.”

Patrick winced, and Charlie stilled, internally cursing.

He’d been intent on playing nice.  There’s been entirely too much tension between them of late, a noticeable amount, a _worrying_ amount because, honestly, Charlie wanted to pull a Loki most days and cut off all Evelyn’s gorgeous hair and dye it another ghastly color.  Petty, but Charlie felt like it would be therapeutic, at least temporarily.

Shaking off the tension in the air, Patrick grinned and took a step into Charlie’s personal space, then another, and another, until he plucked the mug from his fingertips, their bodies close enough to feel each other’s heat. He took a sip as he wound a finger around one of Charlie’s wavy strands of dyed black hair, tugging on it lightly.

“Is this going to wash out before filming?  If not Scout’ll throw a proper fit, yeah?”

Charlie figured they should be more worried about _Taylor_ than Scout.  Their Yorkshire born, surly director might be in the habit of shouting at people when they did stupid things like break bones before fight scenes or show up on set with hickey and new tattoos no one had bothered to warn them about, but Taylor was a proper perfectionist.  Their executive and supervisory producer lived on set and seemed more passionate about everything going the way she wanted than every their screenwriter and the show’s creator, Israel.

The first time Charlie had met Taylor, he’d gotten an evil look and a stern lecture on keeping his dick in his pants because ‘if one regular quits because you fucked them over I’ll fucking end you.’  If he’d ever wondered how a five foot nothing blond woman with a pixie cut and freckles had ended up on top of the food chain in the Hollywood film industry, he hadn’t after that.  She ran a tight ship but had been the main reason the show had been as successful as it had been.

“Should,” Charlie shrugged, leaning into the touch.  “If not I’m sure Taylor will just have hair and makeup dye my arse.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Patrick smirked, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s forehead before stepping back.  “There’s no food in the fridge.”

“I noticed.  Did my baby get fed at least?”  Charlie asked, his voice turning playful as he dropped into a squat.  Snow, recognizing the movement for the ‘come to me’ that it was, hopped up excitedly, tail waging as she trotted over to sit between Charlie’s legs and get loved on.

“As if your dog would ever allow herself to go hungry,” Patrick scoffed as he opened the refrigerator to pull out a yogurt.  He open it, frowned, and leaned down to sniff it while Charlie pressed his face into Snow’s fur, hiding a smile as he stared up at Patrick. He gagged and held the yogurt out as he gathered the rest and tossed them into the trashcan with an exaggerated grimace.

Charlie looked back at his dog, stroking her head and meeting her pleading, pale blue eyes.  “I know, you’d call papa wouldn’t you?  I’d never let the mean man starve you.”

“Fucking hell,” Patrick huffed, glaring at Charlie and opting for popping Cookie Crisp that he pulled from the pantry, “she’s so fucking spoiled. Whines when she wants to go out. Whines when she wants food. Whines when she wants to go on a walk.”

“She has a routine,” Charlie insisted.  “Why are you running late?  If you were on time she wouldn’t whine.”

“You love her more than me!  I knew it!”

Charlie laughed as he rose to his feet, pressing a last kiss to the top of Snow’s head.  He stepped over to stand beside Patrick with an angelic smile as he reached into the box for a handful of the sugary breakfast cereal.  Patrick narrowed his eyes as Charlie tossed one into his mouth, and he grinned smugly.  “Did Tasha send those?”

“She might have,” Patrick huffed playfully, hugging the box to his chest protectively.  Charlie cocked his head and hummed with a smile.  “Did you see her when you were in San Francisco?”

“A couple times,” Charlie replied.  “We went hiking when she had a layover in Los Angeles.”

“Where?”

“Runyon Canyon Park.”

Patrick nodded, “She doing Christmas here this year?”

“Yep,” Charlie nodded, “but I think they’re going small this time around. I’m sure her and mum’ll meet up at some point, but otherwise we’re not like obligated to attend.”

Tilting his head and slanting a look at Charlie, Patrick’s eyebrows rose. “You say that like I wouldn’t _want_ to.  I adore Tasha.”

“I know,” Charlie half-shrugged, clearing his throat and taking a sip of his tea to avoid Patrick’s eyes.  “Salem’s got a boyfriend.”

“Bailey?”

“No.”

Patrick rolled his eyes.  “Won’t last long.”

“No.”

It was awkward.  A long, awkward silence that didn’t help abate when Evelyn strolled into the room, still Patrick’s t-shirt but this time wearing a pair of flannel boy shirts, her dark hair twisted up in a loose bun on the top of her head.

Sensing the tension, Evelyn smiled weakly and uncomfortably at Charlie who, after a fourteen hour flight and severe lack of food, didn’t even bother to play nice.  Instead, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket to shoot off a quick text message to Salem, conscious of both Patrick standing taut beside him and Evelyn walking to the fridge to open it like she fucking lived there.

 **Charlie:** Out of food. Brekkie?

Evelyn closed the fridge with a nervous giggle, turning to look at the pair of them before she dared to cross the expanse of floor space between them to press an awkward kiss to Patrick’s lips, arm looping around his neck as she leaned against him.  “I’m so sorry. We must have finished off the eggs earlier this morning.  You must be so hungry.”

 **Salem:** So Evelyn’s there?

 **Charlie:** Fucking yes.

Charlie gritted his teeth, swallowing hard, and faking a sharp smile rather unsuccessfully trying for civility.  Given the way Patrick winced, eyes going to the ceiling as a guilty look flashed across his face and Evelyn’s nervous giggling, it was even _worse_ than he’d been picturing.

Since when did she live here enough to apologize to _him_ who _did_ live here about there being no food?

 _For fuck’s sake_.

 **Salem:** Lmao ok Primrose Bakery? So you can bring your creature?

 **Charlie:** Thank fuck yes. And rude :P

“It’s fine, whatever.  I’m grabbing breakfast with Salem anyway,” Charlie said through clenched teeth and a tight smile. Patrick seemed to deflate at that, sighing just quietly enough that only Charlie seemed to notice while Evelyn looked more than a little relieved to have him leaving.  Pushing off the counter and whistling pointedly at Snow, who hopped to her feet and ran to the door where they kept her collar and leash with an excited yip, Charlie dumped the remainder of his tea in the sink.

Patrick reached out and caught his arm.  He stilled and turned around, raising his eyebrows more than a little annoyed.  “Midnight Tesco run tonight?”

Charlie softened under the pleading, apologetic look and nodded with a slight smile, “Yeah, course love.”

He was most proud of the fact that he didn’t even slam the door on his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo the tension. Now you understand the flashback, right? Like can you imagine half a story about this kind of tension. Insanity.
> 
> Primrose Bakery is a real place and, yes, you really can bring your dogs (also, it's amazing what you find when you google search dog friendly london cafes). Runyon Canyon Park: real and the kind of place people go hiking, or so it seems. My mother loves hiking (that's primarily who Tasha's based on) I do not.
> 
> I'll have everyone know I got so intense about this novel and how intertwined it was with the others that I created a color coded spreadsheet of timelines starting in 2014 and going all the way to 2020 with every major character in each novel. It's very impressive, if I do say so myself. I also google searched filming schedules for tv shows (and I made one for this fiction show). The shoot (for 22 episodes which is the industry average) goes about 9 months (including breaks) and shoots from July to April.
> 
> I did so much shit before even starting to do the fun part that I couldn't deal with making up Patrick and Charlie's whole filmographies from scratch (I'm like super thorough). So most of their films are based on preexisting books so if you really want to know the premise, you can google them. Also at this point in time, Salem is currently dating Spencer.
> 
> Happy belated Thanksgiving! I've decided Crisco is gold (fuck the UK wanting me to put LARD in peanut butter cookies take a seat) and I'll be updating Mon, Wed, and Fri. So see you Monday.


	3. "Outside" by Calvin Harris ft. Ellie Goulding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension and interviews.

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck what’s this about you being back??? @LadyLibby

 

**Charlotte Harbourne (@LadyLibby)**

@13poppies I know this can’t be true when I asked @CharlieBeck specifically TODAY

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@13poppies @LadyLibby obviously I’m dead x_x

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

“You can’t live on chicken dippers, pasta, and beer” #wannabet

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“Let me live Satan!” hahahaha

 

**Text message to Israel**

**Patrick:** Youre coming y/n?

 **Israel:** Ok that’s super forward. None ya biz

 **Patrick:** Lmao but seriously?

 **Israel:** Li Min thinks ya’ll fuck it up

 **Israel:** So obvi

 **Patrick:** That’s so rude!

 **Israel:** Wouldn’t be the first time

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** Ffs she’s still here!!!!

 **Charlie:** Save me I’m begging you

 **Salem:** Does she live there? What the fuck? It’s 6am.

 **Charlie:** Exactly!

 **Charlie:** She came an hour ago! With coffee and muffins!

 **Charlie:** Update: she has a key

 **Charlie:** I didn’t approve this.

 **Charlie:** uhhhhh

 **Salem:** Find some chill.

 

**Patrelyn is alive and well!**

His best friend’s love life might be rocky, but our favorite Irish-born actor, Patrick Gallagher, remains steadfast in his relationship with girlfriend and _Ethereal_ costar, Evelyn Merritt. The couple posted a cutesy photo to Merritt’s Instagram of the pair of them breakfasting in bed at Gallagher’s Belsize Park home captioned ‘unofficial first day of work.’ They’ll be spending the day doing interviews across London before shooting for the third series of _Ethereal_ begins on Monday, but it seems like our lovebirds are determined to make sure they get in plenty of time together in spite of work picking up again.  “They’re absolutely enchanted with each other,” a source close to the pair revealed.  “Evelyn thinks that he’s the one.”  The pair began dating in June 2016 just before filming after spending most of the month in an intensive combat bootcamp in preparation for the second series. Against all odds, they’ve remained together, and we certainly couldn’t be happier!

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ, what did you do all summer?  Work out and run on the beach?”

A wide smile splitting across his face, Patrick turned around to see one of his closest friends leaning against the wall of the studio, arms crossed over hir chest and mobile phone clenched in hir hand.

Israel, the show creator and screenwriter, looked the way ze usually looked: annoyed and sarcastic.  They’d met the very first day Patrick had auditioned when ze’d wandered into the room to shout at the casting director for hiring Evelyn Merritt without consulting hir first before freezing and glancing sideways at Patrick who’d waved awkwardly. Israel’s only response had been a terse ‘well fucking hire this one since you already made _one_ moronic decision today.’  He’d been platonically smitten ever since.

Crassly American.  Unapologetically bitchy. Openly genderqueer. Israel was some ridiculously fantastic mixture of biracial that had given hir flawless almond skin, manga-huge peridot eyes rimmed with thick lashes, and thick wavy hair cut short, aggressively flat-ironed into submission, and dyed an ombre blue. As usual, ze’d come in hir usual brand of camouflage canvas jacket, sarcastic t-shirt, and dark skinny jeans tucked into a pair of scuffed combat boots.  Israel certainly didn’t look like the kind of person you crossed.

Generally, the only person who dared, even in a professional capacity, was Taylor, and even that came with some degree of caution.

“That’s some foul blasphemous language coming out of your mouth.”

Israel scoffed and rolled hir eyes before bridging the distance between them like ze’d hug him.  Patrick watched with amusement, knowing otherwise.  Where others  _would_ have hugged him, Israel stopped before him, cocked hir head, and quirked an eyebrow, tilting up hir chin defiantly.  Ze stood just an inch or two beneath his 5’10” frame.  Taking a deep breath, ze smiled, “Sup.  How was your holiday?”

They hadn’t seen each other since filming wrapped.

Israel was an avid traveller and had joined hir younger brother, an American Air Force pilot on leave, on a backpacking tour through Europe. They’d documented their travels across the continent on their joint Instagram account; it had been mindboggling just how many countries they’d managed to make it through. Last he’d seen, they’d wrapped in Moscow over pierogi and borscht.

Patrick, meanwhile, had worked out a lot, gone out with his friends and Evelyn, spent time with his family in Ireland, visited Charlie every few weeks in Los Angeles, and had spent almost a month lounging on a beach in Greece with Evelyn.  It had been quiet, serene, and not nearly as hectic and fast-paced as when they were filming, but he’d missed Israel and, moreso, Charlie’s constant presence.

Near constant?

He hadn’t seen Charlie since he’d bolted out of the house fifteen minutes after Evelyn had waltzed into their house that morning with a quick remark that he wanted to go for a run.

 _Bullshit_ , but Patrick hadn’t called him on it not even when Evelyn had worriedly pressed about where he’d run off two when he’d yet to return from his ‘run’ two hours later.

“Alright.” He said after a moment. Ze raised hir eyebrows but didn’t call him on his half-hearted answer.  Clearing his throat, Patrick offered hir a smile.  “How was yours?”

“Glorious,” Israel sighed, cocking hir head.  “Though that brother of mine.  I remember when he was like twenty pounds soaking wet and used go to crazy if I tugged on one of his curls.  Now he’s running around batting his eyelashes and getting laid in the bathroom of clubs. What kind of black magic shit is that?”

“I think it’s called ‘growing up,’” Patrick snickered.

Ze didn’t seem impressed.  “Fuck ‘growing up.’  My little brother’s a serial womanizer.  How did that even happen?  One day I’m going to come home to find him with a brood of multicultural spawns that he sowed all across the world while on tour.  I’m not happy.”

“You’re being a little dramatic.”

“Do they need you in hair and makeup?”  Ze asked, looking passed him towards the set where their show’s unit publicist, Hou Li Min, simultaneously chewed on her blunt nails nervously _and_ barked out orders she expected to be followed to the letter.

Patrick shook his head and pointed at his artfully side-swept hair. “Been there done that. What you didn’t notice?”

Ze shrugged, “You could have gone very metrosexual over the break. Who am I to judge?” Patrick’s lips upturned as he shook his head.  Israel stilled and turned hir attention with deadly focus back to Patrick.  “Better question: where’s your better half?”

Swallow and biting back a grimace, Patrick forced himself to ask anxiously, “You haven’t seen him?”

“I’ve been texting.”  Israel held up hir phone pointedly.

Patrick cursed, and ze raised hir eyebrows while hir lips curved in amusement.

“Spouses fighting again?”

“My fault.  I gave Evelyn a key to the house, and she was there when Charlie came back from San Francisco.”

Israel punched him in the chest.  “Dude, you don’t just give your girlfriend your best friend and roommate hates keys to your house.  Like _what_?  Also, everyone knows she stayed over at yours.  Do you even _read_ your Twitter feed?”

And he did…he just didn’t particularly care what the world saw on social media.  That was why he was getting constant phone calls and text message from his manager, Pete, and his agent, Oliver.  The latter he’d given over the passcodes to without prompting or contractual obligations after the fifteenth memo about promotion.

Patrick just didn’t care.  He trolled hard, though.  Twitter was a scary animal, but he enjoyed Tumblr more than a twenty-two, nearly twenty-three, year old should, frankly.

He smirked as he looked down at Israel.  “I saw _your_ comment.”

Ze’s lip curled up.  “I did not need the early morning allusion to morning sex.  You’re like my bestest friend.  I don’t really want to know about your sex life.  Unless you decided to stop being a total douchebag and schtup Charlie with feelings not copious amounts of alcohol.”  Patrick grimaced, moving to run a hand through his hair when Israel caught it and glared at him.  Yes, the hair stylist would be pissed if Patrick ruined all her hard work minutes before they were due to begin their interview.  “Why would you give her a key?”

Sighing and tugging on the hem of his Armani jumper, Patrick shrugged. “It put her off moving in together. I mean isn’t that moving kind of fast?”

Israel gave him a weird look.  “You’ve been dating for a year.”  Patrick responded with furrowed brows, and hir look got even more pointed. “That’s reasonable.”

“Is it?”

“You moved in with Charlie after knowing him a month.”

He was willing to concede to that logic.

Except that it wasn’t even the same thing.  Him and Charlie just…clicked from the very first day they’d met on set wide-eyed and ‘oh my fucking God what are the chances?’  Patrick had been kipping with a mate from his sixth form who’d moved to London from Cork to study cinematography at university, and Charlie had been commuting from his mother’s home in Surrey.

They’d sat next together during one table-read, giggling manically and making ridiculous facial expression, sharing Charlie’s ridiculous glass bottle of Voss _artisan_ water when playing around had had them both finishing Patrick’s.  There had been footsie that had turned into snuggling when they’d grabbed Chinese food during their lunch break, and more touching when they’d been back at the table, that had turned into dinner.  Charlie had been all earnest blue eyes, angelic dimpled smiles, and a head of barely tamed golden curls.

What Israel didn’t need know who was that the moving in together idea had happened about a week into their official friendship when they’d spent the fifth evening in a row curled up on the sofa in Charlie’s _wing_ of his mother’s sprawling estate in Surrey sharing egg rolls, fried rice, and prawn crisps while watching the entire collection of Marvel movies. Half-buried under a giant quilt that Salem’s grandmother had made for Charlie because of how ridiculously intertwined with their family he had been and still was, reclined together in a giant heap that left very little understand of where one began and the other one ended.

It had been Patrick who’d looked down at Charlie’s profile, the slightest impress of his dimple as he smiled softly at the television lying half beneath Patrick’s body, pliant and content.  Without even thinking about it or consciously making the decision, Patrick had leaned down to press a kiss to Charlie’s temple and murmured in his ear, “We should move in together.”

It had taken them three weeks to find a place they could both afford and liked.

And even less time to decide that they wanted to adopt a three-legged, sad-eyed dog while filming briefly in _America_.

Yeah, best Israel didn’t know.

Instead he replied succinctly, “Evelyn isn’t Charlie.”

Ze slanted a knowing look at him and smirked, “Yeah, you’re right. You’re not in love with _her._ ”

Israel could fuck right off.

Before he could respond, Evelyn made a beeline for them with a bright smile on her lips and her lithe figure highlighted perfectly in fitted slip dress. Her lips curled into a demur smile when she noticed Patrick’s eyes on her, and Israel snorted at the attempted modesty.  Whatever had happened between them before Patrick had met either of them, Israel’s fondness for Charlie and irritation with Patrick’s behavior certainly had helped foster any warm feelings between them.

As always, Evelyn offered Israel a polite but ultimately icy smile as she wrapped an arm around Patrick’s waist and leaned up to peck his lips in greeting. “Israel,” she nodded swiftly.

“Princess,” Israel responded shortly.

“Yankee!”

Unnaturally attuned to Charlie, Patrick straightened on instinct, his eyes drawn to Charlie as he stepped out of the dressing room and made his way over to them.

Evelyn had the kind of ice queen, reserved beauty that made lesser men weep and women both jealous and standoffish because she looked like perfect porcelain and a right bitch all at once.

Charlie, though, was two things: shameless and sunny.  He had the ability to light up a room with a single smile, and for all Patrick’s attempts to purge himself of emotion, he lifted Patrick’s mood just by walking into the room.  He abandoned all possible subtlety when it came to his fashion and wore whatever he liked whenever he liked, and always discreetly smirked as he blinked angelically at his scowling manager and publicist.  Today was no different with his sheer rose patterned shirt and black jeans with his still too dark curls windswept.  Then there were his shoes: heeled overpriced Saint Laurent ankle boots that were nearly as high as Evelyn’s strappy Chanel heels. The gem of the whole collection was the platinum and rose gold Tiffany’s key pendant resting on his expose chest.

The one Patrick had bought him for his birthday last year.

“Red coat!”  Israel exclaimed, cackling joyfully and throwing hirself into his arm, gripping him a tight embrace. Ze pressed kisses to his cheeks before taking a step back to look him up and down before glancing back at Patrick. “See,” ze told Patrick as she waved a hand at Charlie, “metrosexual, muscled, and tan.  Called it.”

Charlie laughed while Patrick’s lips quirked up into a smile.

The list of people who knew Charlie was gay was laughably short, though it had gotten longer since he’d had his rebellion against the studio, his agent, his manager, and his publicist, publically getting papped drunkenly snogging Irial Dorian the previous year.  Longer still when Salem had moved and settled in London.  Charlie adored his best friend and made no attempt to hide it. He also made no attempt to even pretend to divert the occasional discreet innuendo regarding just _how_ intimate he’d been with Salem.

Evelyn huffed, and Patrick glanced at her warningly, watching as his girlfriend pasted on a warm smile, tightening her arm at Patrick as she met Charlie’s striking sapphire eyes that couldn’t quite manage to conceal their disdain. “Charlie.”

“Evelyn.”

“Sorry we missed you this morning.”

Patrick winced, eyes drifting to the ceiling while Israel oh-so-slowly quirked an eyebrow, hir mouth dropping open into a slight gape as hir head turned towards Charlie.

This was really what he got for dating someone who was perceptive enough to pick up on the discrepancy between his and Charlie’s relationship, but possessive enough to bait the man.

Charlie was charming, adorable, and endearing.  People fell in love with him the minute he focused his bright smile on them, but he’d also grown up between a mother who mingled with the sharks of the fashion elite and a father who’d thrown him to the wolves of the film industry before he’d even set foot in a primary school building. Actually, Charlie had _never_ set foot in a primary school for that reason alone. He’d been privately tutored with a nanny and designated legal guardian as he’d shuffled from set to set, occasionally visiting his mother or father in between shoots.

Adorable little sunshine, Charlie may be, but he knew how to play the game, how to be ruthless, cunning, and biting when it suited him.

Charlie’s eyes darted to Patrick’s, and he pleaded silently with him to let go of what _had_ to have been an intentional dig.  He watched as his shoulders drooped slightly, expression shuttering as he turned back to Evelyn with the coldest, politest smile Patrick had ever seen on a human being. “I don’t know how you could’ve possibly. I was in my home.”

Evelyn stiffened, her chin tilting up defiantly as she clenched her jaw together.

Israel quirked an eyebrow, whistling under her breath, and Charlie smiled so benignly it seemed threatening.  “Lovely dress.  Versace?”

Patrick felt Evelyn startled against him before nodding hesitantly, “Yes. Patrick didn’t tell me you knew fashion?”

_Fuck._

Israel stifled laughter, and Charlie’s eyes went to the floor before meeting Evelyn’s again with a bright, condescending smile.  “He didn’t tell me that you _didn’t_.” Patrick didn’t need to look at her to know that she had a furious expression on her face.  Charlie’s smile grew as he shrugged a single shoulder. “My sister wore that dress in New York fashion week.  And my mother designed your coat.”

That did it for Israel who couldn’t manage to hold back hir laughter.

Evelyn’s head swiveled to Israel and glared.  The problem with that attempt to shut up was that Israel didn’t give a single shit. The glare only made hir laugh harder until ze had to wipe tears from hir eyes.  Ze turned to Charlie and patted his chest.  “Always good to see you, Charlie.”

“I try.”

Evelyn turned her gaze to Patrick who spotted the mortification in the depths of her eyes as she inquired under her breath: “His mother?”

“Libby Harboune.  _Daphne_ is named after her daughter, an international supermodel.”  Patrick told her, watching her face drop even more, guilt coiling in his stomach that only seemed to increase when he saw Charlie’s smug, baleful look in her direction as he tugged on a lock of blue hair peeking out from beneath Israel’s beanie and made his way towards the set already smiling brightly at the interviewer and greeting her like a longtime friend.

Clapping loudly, he and Evelyn turned to see the irritated expression on Li Min’s flawless face as Israel slunk off.  Their publicist waved a hand at the set.  “Any time today unless you’re both determined to be prima donnas.”

Patrick forced a smile when Evelyn clutched his hand and walked towards the set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you thought Bailey was a posh little fashionista you were woefully unprepared for Charlie, but you can thank Bailey for my newfound interest in mens high fashion. I shit you not. I've spent entirely too much time look at Saint Laurent and Dolce & Gabbana's fashion lines. Lord help me.
> 
> Israel, Patrick's best friend, is genderqueer. There's a whole host of what they could mean as genderqueer tends to be the umbrella term, but I haven't seriously considered what she identifies as because Israel hasn't either aside from 'not cis'.
> 
> Happy Monday!


	4. "Don't You Go" by All Time Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late June 2015-First Cast Table read

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

And so it begins. First table read.  Super excited.

 

**Israel (@nottthecountry)**

I’m more nervous now than when I pitched this.

 

**Riley Heron (@imstilltalking)**

@notthecountry that’s cuz those are just uptight execs who need to kiss ur ass for a job

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck have a good first day!!!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@13poppies between you and mum I feel like it’s my first day of primary school.

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck you went to primary school?

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** Good luck on day one!

**Charlie:** I’m so nervous. Is that weird?

**Salem:** Should it be?

**Charlie:** I’ve done this before

**Salem:** Have you? This exact thing?

**Salem:** That’s some Terminator bullshit.

**Charlie:** Geek :)

**Charlie:** I get your point. Thx babe

**Salem:** Have a great first day of school!

**Charlie:** U and Poppy can fuck right off

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Avery:** Did you know hollywoods royal itboy is on cast?

**Patrick:** Who?

**Avery:** Charles Beck.

**Patrick:** Ok but like who?

**Avery:** Child star. Movie star. Disney star. Film franchise phenom.

**Patrick:** Sigh who?

**Avery:** How can you not know????

**Patrick:** Give me a film he’s in.

**Avery:** Anna and the French Kiss

**Patrick:** That’s a chick flick right

**Avery:** Sinner’s literally out like tomorrow. Been all over the tv

**Patrick:** That’s about a drug addicted werewolf, right? A part of some franchise?

**Avery:** Karma! About the Irish mob during prohibition! It won an Oscar????

**Patrick:** I’ll be at the studio in 5min. Try not to have a heart attack.

**Avery:** How long have you worked in this industry????????????

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

Omfg like I knew but I didn’t know but like I met @CharlieBeck #squeeeee

* * *

So the girl in front of him was crying, and in theory, Charlie totally understood why but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

It had been awhile since anyone had gone this fangirl on him, especially someone in the industry.  Though, to be fair, aside from his forays around whatever city he filmed in, Charlie rarely ever put himself in a position to be fangirled over like this by another member of the industry.  He’d spent the last nine months filming almost nonstop with people as famous as he was and who’d known him since he’d gone to award shows clutching his father’s hand in tiny bowties, kiddie Ralph Lauren trousers, and a far too serious expression for an eight year old.

Charlie’s eyes went to Sadie.

His paternal cousin hadn’t been his first for a PA or second or even his third.

Frankly, he’d been guilt-tripped into it by his stepmother.

Prior to hiring her when he’d been properly emancipated at sixteen, Charlie had met her a grand total of three times.  Half because he was never really in Australia enough to get to know any of his extended family, and half because her mother, his father’s youngest sister, was a rent girl of the highest caliber with a serious prescription drug problem that had effectively alienated her family when she committed fraud using the Beck matriarch’s credit cards to push her into bankruptcy (or would have if Charlie’s father hadn’t swooped in and saved the day), proceeded to run away from her posh rehab clinic for about the tenth time, and then stole $1500 from her sister and dropped Sadie off on the doorstep of her crack addicted ex-boyfriend in Canberra.

Dylan had had the good sense to call Charlie’s father to come collect his niece.

He didn’t particularly mind Sadie.  She was diligent with a good head on her shoulders and had, at least thus far, proven herself up to the task.  His main issue with his cousin simply came from the way his stepmother, Patricia, had batted her eyelashes and pouted her glossy, augmented lips at him as _he’d_ tended to her squalling six year old daughter, Allegra.

The immediate response had been “no,” but between his father’s pleading gaze and Sadie’s own sunburnt skin pulled tightly over her malnourished frame that seemed to radiate a quiet hopelessness, Charlie had given in.

Sadie had tentatively moved into a guest room on his mother’s Surrey compound, and the Harbourne house chef had valiantly taken up the challenge of feeding her back to health.  He’d left her in London to deal with his manager, agent, and publicist, none of whom he’d had any desire to talk to for the last three months since he’d wrapped filming in Boston, and get her strength up while he’d been shooting in LA. Charlie had come home to a thin but not malnourished, tanned woman with a shiny dirty blonde bob who dressed like a fashion model, could wield a stylus like a sword, and took tea on the veranda with one of Britain’s biggest designers and her famous friends without batting a faux eyelash.

Charlie had conceded to being impressed.

“She’s…” Sadie began, but he shook his head with a warm smile he turned on Hollis.

“I know who she is,” Charlie said.  Hollis’s eyes went wide as she smiled back tentatively, tucking a kinky black curl behind her ear.  “How are you, love?”

“Oh my God, I don’t even know!”  Hollis exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hands quickly as she shook her head.  “Don’t mind me. I’m just fangirling over here. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you want a hug?”  Charlie asked, “Would that help?”

“Maybe,” Hollis squeaked, burrowing close when he wrapped her in a hug.

They hadn’t screen-tested together even though Charlie could tell from his first read-through of the pilot episode script they probably should have. That was because the creator and screenwriter, No-First-Name Israel, had been in some kind of pissing match with the casting director over a casting choice.  He’d wondered if it had been about himself being hired almost on the spot, but the more he’d listened the more he’d gotten an earful of “should have asked my permission before hiring that _fucking_ woman, do it again you dick and I’ll make sure Taylor fires your ass before the day is out! Don’t think I won’t.”

Hollis, Charlie had been told, was a year older than him and had come straight out of an American high school where Taylor and Israel had been having a working lunch in New York City.  They’d scouted her and asked her to send in an audition.  She had.  And just like that a med school bound girl from Queens had found herself living in London and working on a television show.

She fanned herself with her hand as she pulled back with a broad smile. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry…I just…it’s…I’ll get over it.”

“One would hope,” Sadie muttered.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at her, and she shut up, taking a sip from her coffee like she hadn’t spoken at all.  He turned to the buffet table laid out and glanced back at Hollis. “Tea?  Coffee?”

“Oh no,” Hollis said, regaining her footing and holding up a steaming paper cup.  “I’ve already got hot chocolate.  My mom thinks it’s the perfect way to say ‘have a good day reading out a script, don’t get fired.’”

“Are you saying it isn’t?”  Charlie responded.

Hollis smiled as she took a sip, “Nope.”

“Oh my fucking Lord, are those After Eight mints?”  A new voice called out excitedly, and Hollis raised her eyebrows at Charlie who pursed his lips and looked behind her to see Sienna Mortimer running up awkwardly.  Huffing, Sienna toed off her heels and picked them up as she made her way over, peering at the table over Charlie’s shoulder.  “Pooh, they’re just pretty biscuits.  I could go for an After-Eight right now.”

“I could _always_ go for an After-Eight,” Charlie returned with a smile.

“Hiya lovely, it’s been ages.”  Sienna greeted him while he smiled and shook his head, setting aside his tea to make Sienna a cup of coffee.  She turned to Hollis and cocked her head before pressing a kiss to each of her cheeks, startling the American.  “You’re Hollis McQueen, yes?  The American girl? Playing Brody? I’m Sienna.  Mortimer.  I’m playing Ciara. I’m from Kent. It’s to the south. All farmland more like. I had sheep growing up, you know.”

Hollis blinked and looked at Charlie as he handed Sienna a cup of black off. “She tells everyone that,” Charlie confided.

“Aw, bless you Charlie,” Sienna said as she inhaled the scent of her coffee and sighed dramatically.  “Also, fuck you very much.  I’m more grounded than you.”

“Define ‘grounded,’” Charlie answered evenly.  “You’re holding £900 Dolce and Gabbana heels in your hand while wearing a cashmere poncho that costs more than most people’s rent.”

Choking on her hot chocolate, Hollis coughed and sputtered, turning her gaze to Sienna’s outfit, which, fabulous as it may be, certainly would never in a million years count as ‘grounded.’  Charlie knew fashion, and the shoes and poncho _alone_ put the outfit at £2000 at least. Sienna had only recently come into that kind of money.  She’d been in the television industry since her brief stint as a child star on and off soap operas before taking on reality television when she’d been on Davina Allard’s show. Only recently had she landed anything worth note when she’d gone to America and been cast on _Supernatural_ as a guest star.

They’d met only twice before, once at a coffee while on shopping trips on Rodeo Drive, and once more at an award show a few months ago. They had both managed to fall effortlessly into not-exactly-a-friendship.  They never exchanged numbers, but they got along and could hold a conversation.

Sienna’s eyebrows rose, and Charlie had already begun to smirk by the time she’d lowered her cup to the table to study Charlie.  “Sheer black shirt that I swear I saw your sister wearing when she walked for Saint Laurent.  Hideous Versace baroque print skinny jeans, if I remember correctly.” Charlie sipped his tea and nodded with a light smile while Hollis looked between the two of them wide-eyed and taken aback.  “And what kind of boots are those?”

“Alexander McQueen.  Triple strap.”

“Alexander McQueen.  Triple strap,” Sienna nodded. “You’re up to two thousand, aren’t you? Not including your jewelry.” Charlie didn’t respond beyond watching her evenly as his thumb automatically played with the black diamond and jade ring on his ring finger.  “And how much did your Prada sunglasses cost?”

Hollis cringed, “Why are we talking about this?”

“Shh,” Sienna said without looking at her, “I’m proving a point.”

“Two hundred thirty, I think,” Charlie shrugged while Hollis looked vaguely sick. Charlie patted her shoulder affectionately as he smiled benignly at Sienna.  “But of the two of us, I never claimed to be grounded.  I was wearing uncomfortable Fendi loafers before I could even walk. Surely, you didn’t think I’d start shopping at John Lewis _now_.”

“Excuse you, I love John Lewis,” Hollis said, outraged.

Sienna blinked at her in surprise.  Charlie just shook his head and tugged on Hollis’s ringlet with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll have to take a trip to Selfridges sooner rather than later, love.  Not Harrod’s.  That might be too much too soon for you.”

“Harrod’s is ghastly,” Sienna scowled.

“Harrod’s has great food though,” a new voice spoke, and they all turned their attention to see Israel leaning against the wall literally looking like she—he?—had just rolled out of bed in a pair of New York Zoo trackies and a fitted black long-sleeved top that didn’t help Charlie pinpoint his—her?—gender.

“Pronouns,” Charlie finally blurted.  Israel’s gaze shifted to him, eyebrows rising, and he smiled carefully at her. “What are yours? This is, of course, assuming the androgyny is intentional and not just my being insensitive.”

Slowly, Israel smiled and inclined her—his?—head.  “Def intentional.  I’m Israel the screenwriter and show creator for anyone who doesn’t know. And my pronouns are ‘ze’ and ‘hir.’” Ze paused, tilted hir head and narrowed hir eyes on Charlie who only smiled in response and raised his eyebrows. Humming thoughtfully, Israel went to run hir fingers through hir hair before pausing to glare at the cornrows. “Forgot I had those.” Hollis giggled, and Charlie beamed, stilling when hir eyes drifted back to him.  “You’re not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?”

“Hypo-heterosexuality,” Israel announced primly.

Sienna laughed, “He’s wearing a women’s sheer gauzy shirt! Like, what?”

“I know,” Israel nodded.  “Very odd.”

Charlie twisted the ring on his finger as his stared at Israel. Hir eyes darted down to his hand, and hir eyebrows rose as ze nodded in understanding.  He doubted that ze really _could_ understand, but it didn’t make him feel anymore comfortable with the too-knowing glint lurking there.

Dropping his hands to his side, Charlie swiftly picked up his tea again and took a sip, eyes moving from a suspicious Sienna to Hollis who seemed to have decided to completely check out of the awkward moment to flit through her phone. Charlie cocked his head and noted the unreal navy and white backlight shining on her face; he grinned and asked cheekily, “Tumblr?”

Hollis startled, shutting her phone down quickly and stuffing it into her back pocket.  “What?”

Israel snorted, “Don’t be so _ashamed_. Any celeb under age thirty who says they don’t have a Tumblr is a goddamned liar.  Isn’t that right, Charlie?”

“I follow Larry Stylinson, Crisial, and funny Harry Potter gifs,” was his only answer.

Israel and Sienna narrowed their eyes on him before Israel hedged carefully, “Okay, that was too much information.  Like, normal people horde their urls from the IRL companions like it’s fucking gold, and you’re like ‘this is what’s on my dash.’  Fucking bizarre-o man.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose.  “I didn’t say that was what was on my dash.  My dash is also comprised of fashion, food, cute cat posts, and gay porn gifs.”

Someone spat on their drink, and everyone stilled as Sienna, half her face covered in expunged water droplets and saliva, and Hollis turned to find Evelyn Merritt standing behind them, water bottle in hand, mouth opening in a gape, gawking at the four of them.  Israel sighed and put a hand on hir head, waving a dismissive hand and turning to walk away from the actress.

Charlie grabbed a napkin from the table and handed it to Sienna who wiped off her face as Evelyn blushed furiously and gathered herself as quickly as possible. “Well hi,” Sienna finally spoke.

Evelyn, if possible, turned even redder.

Poppy, Charlie’s only full biological sibling, had been the first person to meet Evelyn when she’d still been prancing around the runway in lacy lingerie for Victoria’s Secret before moving on to small-time acting roles. “She’s the female _you_ ,” Poppy had said, though she hadn’t seemed particularly thrilled about that.

Charlie wasn’t sure that comparison was entirely accurate, but he also knew firsthand that they did have some similar habits.  For one, Evelyn always dressed impeccably. She’d shown up to their nine am table-read in a gorgeous Chloé dress that Charlie felt confident he’d bought for Poppy for Christmas last year and a pair of killer Valentino knee-high boots. Her dark hair had been pulled up in a perky ponytail, and the smile on her lips made her seem almost sweet.

What Charlie had taken away from Poppy’s words was that intrinsically Evelyn could manipulate a starving man into selling her his last container of Ramen for a broken watch and expired movie tickets.

The thing was, Charlie had had a reason to learn how to play the game and scheme his way through it, had begun when he’d stared another boy for too long at twelve and had gotten an hour long shame-and-scold from his publicist and manager for it.  There wasn’t a reason for Evelyn to have learned besides a stone-cold ruthlessness that had made Poppy uncomfortable.

“I’m Evelyn Merritt,” she greeted kindly.

“Yeah, we know,” Sienna nodded her head while Hollis pursed her lips.

“I’m Charlie Beck,” he greeted, suddenly remembering his manners as he shook her hand.

Evelyn smiled, and Charlie flinched back fast and stood beside Hollis with a wane smile.  Hollis introduced herself as well before looking over at Charlie.  “Is she seriously not going to apologize for spitting water all over Sienna?”

“Guess we better get in there.  We start in a couple minutes,” Evelyn said kindly before turning on her heel and marching into the room where Charlie could already see Israel sneering beside Taylor Davis, their producer, who simply looked from Evelyn to her friend with an amused expression before turning back to talk to the petite Chinese woman in a killer, severe pantsuit.  Li Min, he guessed, the show’s primary publicist.

“Looks like,” Hollis answered her own question.

Sienna huffed, “What a tit.”

Charlie looked over at her and offered, “We just met her. She might be okay.”

“Israel hates her,” Sienna returned as if that was a viable answer.

“Israel also hates our casting director and most of the show’s producers and all the studio execs,” Charlie felt the need to point out.

Sienna pursed her lips before nodding slowly.  “Fair enough.  Right. I’m about to march into there and make fucking friends.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hollis clapped, yelping when Sienna responded to the sarcasm by grabbing Hollis’s elbow and towing her along for the ride. She looked over her shoulder and waved to Charlie who laughed and turned back to the table.

One more cuppa would be necessary, he thought.

“Oh my God!  Fucking…ah! See him!  Right there!  He’s been in like everything over the last decade.  How do you not know who he is?”  He heard a shrill voice with a faint hint of a Welsh accent demand.

Sadie sidled up beside Charlie, her eyes focused on where the sound had come from in the distance.  “Dear Jesus, this moron.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows at her as he poured a dash of milk into his tea. “Hey, play nice.”

“You haven’t met him.  Avery’s a complete and total—”

“Hi.”

His breath caught, and Charlie stilled at the familiar raspy yet unbelievably smooth Irish accented voice.  The last time he’d heard it had been when his one night stand from Vans Warped had been balls deep in his ass whispering “Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie” in his ear.

The one night stand that he’d been drunk when he’d slept with.

The one night stand he’d lied to about his age, because seventeen wasn’t a legal age of consent anywhere with morals and Charlie didn’t think being _emancipated_ changed that.

The one night stand that he’d had to sneak away from at three in the morning to get to his hotel, pack, check-out, and catch his flight.

The one night stand that had been one of the best shags of his life but had still prompted a frantic, hysterical phone call to Salem who’d listened to him cry and express his feelings without judgment.

It couldn’t possibly be _that_ one night stand, right?

Already sure, but desperately hoping, Charlie turned around to see the man in question as he said.  “Never mind Avery, I’m really really sorry about him.  He’s an absolute shit.”

Thick, feathery—silky, he remembered—dark hair.  Dark green eyes.  A lithe but muscular body knew how to use.  He stood there across from Charlie looking even more delicious than he had in ripped black skinny jeans and a cut-off sleeveless band shirt. In fact, Charlie couldn’t help but be mildly impressed by the urbane man in front of him in a plain white t-shirt, a skull and lion print Alexander McQueen scarf, and a pair of fitted black trousers that clung to his thick thighs deliciously.

_When the actual fuck did this asshole get style?  He’s not supposed to…no._

Something like recognition flitted through the man’s eyes before disappearing, and he held out his hand with a polite smile.  “I’m Patrick Gallagher.  You look really familiar.”

Charlie blinked, feeling absolutely blindsided, even as his body reacted instinctually, taking the hand that had literally set his nerves and body on edge less than seventy-two hours ago, fighting through the shock, dismay, and horror pooling in the pit of his stomach.  Faking a smile, Charlie replied, “Can’t imagine why like I’m proper famous or something. I’m Charlie Beck.”

_And I am so so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help but at a Larry Stylinson reference :)


	5. "Where Did the Party Go" by Fall Out Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filming and propositions

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“The lack of a man on man makeout here seems like a wasted opportunity if I’m being honest.”

 

**RT by @StPatty_**

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Ok but is it really queerbaiting if they’ve already fucked? I’m just wondering cuz I don’t think it is.

 

**thesorceresscreature**

Has anyone seen the ITV interview with Evelyn Merrit, Patrick Gallagher, and my baby Charlie Beck yet?  Have you?  I’m ODing on feels over here!!!!!!!

**trulypatrelyn <333**

After 3yrs are we still doing this? You need to stop. This is worse than the Cadeyrn/Killian shipping

**namethestarschatrick**

People romantically ship Cadeyrn/Killian??? They’re my brotp but otherwise *sideeye*

#but chatrick is real #or used to be #they legit never stop touching #and evelyn was right there #100% they’ve fucked

**21greatnoble**

…or they haven’t fuck enough? Maybe?

**dorian_wildechild**

^^^ yooooo yes this

 

**Excerpt from the ITV Interview**

**Interviewer:** Most shows in the UK only average three series, you nervous?

**Patrick:** Do they really?

**Charlie:** [laughs] Did you not know that?

**Patrick:** Oh my God, that’s so short! How do they accomplish anything? Is that why Spartacus died so soon?

**Charlie:** I think they just ran out of material and living characters for Spartacus.

**Evelyn:** Boys are so easily distracted.

**Interviewer:** Are they always like this?

**Evelyn:** Yes.

**Patrick:** Sorry, sorry. Go on.

**Charlie:** I mean we’re contracted for five seasons.

**Evelyn:** Series.

**Charlie:** Too much time in America I guess.  Series. Yeah. And the show technically belongs to CWTV in the US, doesn’t it?  It’s just filmed here. We don’t really have a reason to be.  Wow that sounds really pretentious doesn’t it?

**Patrick:** Yes, you sound like a twat.

**Charlie:** Stop me next time.

**Evelyn:** There’s a lot more left to accomplish. Israel, the show’s creator and screenwriter, has a really clear and detailed plan of how she wants to handle things.  Every season has a point, and an arch. This season definitely isn’t going to be the end.

**Charlie & Patrick: **Series.

**Evelyn:** Fucking hell you’ve got me doing it now!

**Interviewer:** It’s certainly going to be a wild series. I mean where did we end last year? Killian’s ex’s wife showing up. Cadeyrn and Brody exchanging power on Beltane. Siobhan’s pet dragon attacking Naoise’s wife.  So much drama. It seems like it’s going to be fun.

* * *

 

“I’m no longer having fun!  Can I come down now?”

“Stay right where you are!  Do not move!”  Scout shouted at Charlie.

Patrick watched as Charlie visibly sighed and rolled his eyes, hunkering down on top of the ledge at the back of Hampton Court Palace.  Tilting back his head, Charlie glared up at the sky like it had personally offended him, and Patrick snickered at his dramatics.

No better off than Charlie, Hollis crossed her arms over her chest and glared malevolently at Scout.  “Don’t you think you’re being a little ridiculous?  We’ve shot this twenty-four fucking times.  If Charlie jumps off that ledge one more time he’s gonna break his fucking head.”

Scout returned her glare as Charlie head whipped around, and he peered down at them curiously.  “Did you say something to me?”

Hollis pointed up at him.  “See what I’m talking about?”

“What?”  Charlie called down.

“If he would land properly we could move on.”

Hollis threw her hands up in the air while Charlie just huffed, clearly not having heard what they said anyway.  He turned to stare at the stunt coordinator who hovered just off to the right of his with a bemused expression on his face that Patrick could see from here.

“Patrick.  Gallagher.  Are you even paying attention?”  Scout hollered.

Patrick blinked at him and shrugged.  “We’ve gone over this so many times I could recite my lines and block this scene without consciousness.  Was paying attention necessary?”

Hollis laughed while Scout sighed with exasperation.  “Fine, fine, places!  Let’s try this one more time!”

“Save me Jesus,” Hollis mumbled as she turned back to Patrick who half smiled at her as they backed up.  Patrick tucked himself into the corridor while Hollis back all the way up, pausing at the end of the hallway and waiting.

“And action!”  Scout called.

Hollis ran the length of the hallway, peering back anxiously, and Patrick jumped out when she reached him, pulling her to a stop.

She gaped at him.  “What are you doing here, Killian?”

“Making sure you don’t get killed, Brody.  What idiocy made you think it was actually a good idea to sneak into the Seelie Court _palace_?  Are you trying to get yourself eviscerated?  Because that’s what they would do to you if they were feeling _friendly_ and welcoming!”

Whirling around Hollis glared at him, shoving his chest lightly.  “I’m trying to…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?  Nothing?!  That’s what you’re giving me after you literally pulled the most idiotic stunt in—”

A low thud had both of them turning around as Charlie rose from his crouch to stand in front of them, his face impassive as he glanced from Hollis to Patrick and back again.  “You two can argue about this later, we have to go.”  He reached out and grabbed Hollis’s arm, tugging her towards him.

“What are you doing here, Cadeyrn?”  Hollis hissed as Charlie prodded her in front of him, Patrick following behind them as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Later, Brody, unless you want to talk about how you managed to get out of the academy at all,” Charlie suggested.

Hollis nodded sagely and walked swiftly without looking back, “Right.  Yes.  Later.”

“Cut!”

They stopped.

Charlie rested his arm on Patrick’s shoulder and his chin on his hand as his eyes fell on Scout.  Hollis sighed and leaned over to them.  “How much you wanna bet we’re going to have to do that again?”

“If I do that again I’m going to break my ankle,” Charlie responded.

“That is why most people have stunt doubles, Chaz,” Patrick whispered into his ear as he looped an arm around Charlie’s waist, resting his hand on the dip of his hips.

Scoffing, Charlie shook his head.  “If I still need a stunt double after over a decade of this then what am I even doing with my life?”

“That’s not how it works,” Patrick chided, pinching Charlie’s side.

He jolted and pressed himself more firmly into Patrick’s side, turning to glare at him, “Mean.”

“Alright,” Scout called out.  “Much better, I think we’ve got what we need.”

“Thank fuck,” Patrick muttered while Hollis and Charlie nodded in agreement.

Charlie tossed his head back and forth, the plaits his back-to-blonde hair had been put into shifting with the motion, and he grinned as the three of them made their way over to food.  Patrick handed Charlie a water bottle and a finger sandwich, leaning back against the table while Charlie smiled brightly.

Hollis eyed the pair of them with amusement and affection, shaking her head as she reached out and plucked up a banana.  Charlie and Patrick glanced at each other and snickered.  Hollis stilled and narrowed her eyes on them.  “What fuckers?”

“Nothing,” Charlie shrugged.

“Enjoy your banana,” Patrick finished, the pair of them fighting smiles and avoiding eye contact.

It took Hollis another minute to get it before she dropped it with a disgusted sound and swiped up a blueberry muffin instead.  “Thanks for fucking up my snack by being immature about phallic symbols.  You both suck, and I hate you.”

The laughed harder, Patrick wrapped an arm around Charlie and plucking the open water bottle from his fingers to keep in from spilling as Charlie fell against him, holding the sandwich to his chest.  Charlie coughed and forced himself to stop laughing, meeting Hollis’s furious gaze as she used her fingers to pick apart the muffin, popping bite-size pieces in her mouth.

“Speaking of phallic symbols, do you think Cadeyrn and Brody are going to actually start fucking this season?”  Hollis choked on her muffin, and Patrick rolled his eyes and took a sip of Charlie’s water.  “I mean on the regular.  Because the whole Beltane thing has been a common occurrence since season one, but they’re complete and utter inability to get their shit together is getting ridiculous.  I already have my best friend living that life; I don’t know if I can do it fictionally too.”

Hollis snorted, her eyes flitting over the pair of them.  “Right, _just_ your best friend living his life in obliviousness.”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”  Patrick retorted, taking a bite of the sandwich when Charlie offered it as he handed over the water bottle.

Her eyebrows rose higher.  “No.  Never.”

“Charlie!  Hollis!”  Scout called.

Hollis sighed while Charlie collapsed against, Patrick.  “Noooo, why me?  Don’t I get a break?”

“When’s the last time you had a break, Chaz?”  Patrick asked, running his finger along Charlie’s expose scalp as he finished his sandwich.

Charlie paused and pursed his lips thinking about it.  Scout shouted for them again, and Hollis rolled her eyes and jogged over while Charlie met Patrick’s eyes with a scowl and shrugged.  “I don’t know sometime before Disney.  I was twelve I think.  Maybe?”

“Maybe you should take one,” Patrick suggested, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s forehead.

Charlie beamed at him and handed over the water bottle.  Patrick took it with a slight smile as Charlie replied, “When would I find the time?”

“Charles Beck!”  Scout snapped.

“Go Chazzercise!”  Patrick slapped his ass as he turned to jog over to a red-faced Scout, cackling.

Patrick shook his head and took a sip of the water and frowning down at it.  What he really needed was caffeine.  A lot of caffeine.  As soon as possible.

Closing up the water bottle, he turned to the table, peering around for coffee or Coke or anything of that nature when a steaming paper cup was held out in front of him.  Surprised, Patrick jumped back only to find Evelyn grinning at him with amusement, holding a coffee cup with one hand and a granola bar with the other.  He took the cup from her and took a sip of the blessed caffeinated elixir of life as she wrapped an arm around his waist.

Careful of the beverage, Patrick threw his arm around her shoulder and tugged her ponytail.

Evelyn yelped and punched him in the side lightly, and he laughed.  “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Avery said you looked like you needed it,” Evelyn shrugged, grinning up at him brightly.

“Avery is a wanker,” Patrick retorted lightly, leaning over to catch sight of his PA chatting up a bemused but otherwise uninterested Production Assistant.  Avery caught his eyes and gave Patrick a wide, bright smile and waved.  Laughing, Patrick turned back to Evelyn.  “I didn’t realize you were on today.  Thought it was primarily Chaz and Hollis.”

“It’s like you don’t even read the script, my love,” Evelyn teased him as she shook her head.  “I’m coming to save my dragon, naturally.”

“Naturally.”  Patrick deadpanned.  The absolute ridiculousness that got said on set made his day every time.  At where other job would you ever get to hear someone honestly say they’d showed up to work to save their dragon?  “Has Israel told you who the dragon is yet?”

“Fuck no!  Has she told _you_?!”  Evelyn exclaimed, seeming absolutely betrayed by his question.  Patrick’s eyebrows rose as he held up his hands in surrender.

“No!  I was just wondering.  She may have told Chaz, though.”

Evelyn hummed thoughtfully as her gaze drifted over Patrick’s form with equal parts suspicion and skepticism.  “And Charlie hasn’t told _you_?  Really?”

“I haven’t actually asked,” Patrick replied, forcing his tone to be blasé.  It was a struggle what with him recognizing the initial implication behind her words.  Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows at him pointedly, and he had to fight the instinctual sigh that rose in his chest at the gesture.  Okay, so they were doing this right here, right now then.  “What Evelyn?”

Pursing her lips together in an irritated pout, Evelyn shook her head and gestured up sharply with her hands as the rest of her body remained rigidly still.  “Nothing, Patrick, absolutely nothing.”  Her eyes locked on his as she waited, but if Evelyn really thought he wouldn’t take what certainly hadn’t been meant as a reprieve from pushing about him and Charlie’s closeness as that exactly, then she obviously didn’t know him as well as she thought.  Finally, Evelyn sighed and tapped her fingers on her arm in an unconscious display of annoyance as she changed the subject.  “Why do you look so tired then?  Late night running lines?”

Choking on his coffee, Patrick shook his head and bit back laughter.  _Running lines._   Charlie and Patrick rarely _ever_ ran lines with each other, not when Charlie had spent the last decade or so acting professionally; he always managed to learn his lines in less than twelve hours and instead chose to help Patrick by sitting on the kitchen island and listen to Patrick run his, chucking peanut M &Ms at his head whenever he got a line wrong.  Patrick had learned how to catch them in his mouth after the first six dozen times being unexpectedly pelted by them.

It helped him learn lines quicker, though, like a kinder form of electroshock therapy.

Evelyn’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher, and he could feel himself blushing as he brushed some of his overlong fringe out of his eyes.

“No, no we, uh, had a Saw movie marathon over kebabs and red wine.”  Patrick admitted.

He could _feel_ Evelyn’s incredulity long before she asked archly:

“A Saw movie marathon?”

“Umhmm,” Patrick nodded blithely, “all seven were on Netflix.”

He winced.

Evelyn put a hand on her hips and tilted her head pointedly.  “You Netflix-and-chilled with Charlie?”

No, but he certainly wouldn’t have minded.

“If by ‘Netflix and chill’ you mean Chaz and I watched movies on Netflix and chilled out in his bed with Snow, then yes, we ‘Netflix and chilled.’  I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up over this.”

And, okay, that was a lie.

Patrick knew Evelyn had been uncomfortable with his and Charlie’s relationship from the get-go, just as he’d been uncomfortable with Charlie and Salem’s when he’d met the man over Skype two years back and had been met with heart eyes and a ridiculous amount of innuendo for two people who insisted they’d broken up due to a declining sexual interest in each other.  Yeah, Patrick hadn’t bought that, though neither of them had offered him the full story.  As far as he knew, about half a year into knowing Charlie he’d gone to spend Christmas with Salem in the States and come back despondent but otherwise emotionally unattached.

He’d also turned into an even more aggressive cuddler than he had been before he’d left.  An emo octopus of affection, frankly.

When Patrick and Evelyn had started dating, Patrick hadn’t seen much of a reason to stop behaving like he wasn’t addicted to touching, smelling, and generally just being all over Charlie.  Evelyn had made offhanded comments about it the first three months of their relationship, pointed ones by the halfway mark, and biting jabs that made Charlie irritated and Patrick ignored about three-quarters in.  Even having considerably more information about their unusual friendship, Patrick had neither seen reason nor found much desire to limit or stop their interactions.

If he stopped to think about with any degree of perspective, he knew he ought to feel the slightest bit guilty in that regard, more than a _bit_ if he was being honest, but he’s spent the past three years making a conscious effort _not_ to think about it.

Shipping had been an absolute bane to his existence.

Evelyn had taken one look at their online shippers who made adorable manips and threw around headcanons that weren’t necessarily untrue and had absolutely lost it.  She’d stormed their house fifteen minutes before they’d been due out the door to go to Salem’s celebratory party for his new start-up ranting and raving about ridiculous theories and delusional fans.  And Charlie who hated conflict, wasn’t fond of Evelyn, and certainly adored his fans no matter their level of devotion ranging from casual into extreme had taken one look at her, poured himself a bottle of straight Russian vodka Salem’s grandmother had mailed him for Christmas, and told her to stop being so overdramatic and disgusting towards the people who paid her bills.  It had devolved from there and certainly hadn’t gotten resolved by the time Charlie had stalked out of the house, irate, beyond buzzed, and snapping that he wasn’t going to miss celebrating his best friend’s success because ‘that rude woman you’re sleeping with is so insecure that she’s attacking a bunch of people she’s never met before in her life or had any contact with beyond the confines of her fucking social media account.’

The hostility had only blossomed from there; neither Salem nor Israel had helped discourage it.

“You don’t?  You literally blew off a date with me to hangout in your best mate’s bed and watch shitty horror movies, and you don’t understand why I’m so upset about this?”  Evelyn snapped angrily.

Patrick took a sip of his coffee and watched his girlfriend work herself up impassively.  “No, not really.  He’s my best mate.  I live with him.  We hang out sometimes?”

“All the time,” Evelyn corrected.  “You hang out all the time.  When you went to see him in LA this summer, I asked if I could come with you, and you told me no.  If he’d been home and not filming, would I have even seen you beyond a weeklong trip to some tropical island and the occasional dinner date that Charlie’s text messages would crash?”

“What do you want Evelyn?”  Patrick sighed, already seeing where this was headed.

“I want to move in together,” she said obstinately, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Right,” Patrick shook his head, “you want me to leave Charlie.”

Evelyn threw up her hands and huffed with annoyance.  “God, do you even hear yourself?  Charlie’s nineteen.  He lives fifteen minutes away from his other best friend.  He doesn’t _need_ you.  I _need_ you.  You’re my boyfriend.  I want to build a life with you, but I can’t because you’re too busy encouraging a bunch of moronic little shippers and hanging all over each other to notice or care.  Stop giving them fodder.  Honestly, if I didn’t know better I’d think there was something going on between the pair of you too!”

_In which case why call the shippers moronic?_

Patrick knew better than to ask that, though.  His mother was a staunch woman with strict ideology towards the relationship between parent and child.  She’d smack him more times than he could count for ‘cheeky back-sass.’  Evelyn wouldn’t hit him, but God help him if she wouldn’t be absolute unbearable for weeks.

Changing tactics and blithely avoiding her fallacious assumptions, Patrick decided on a semi-neutral, “I don’t think we’re in a place to be moving in together, do you?”

“We’ve been together a year,” Evelyn remarked tonelessly.

“And fought at least half that,” Patrick returned with raised eyebrows.

“That’s because you feed into this conspiracy theory with Charlie by living up his arse.”

Patrick sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the dark look his stylist sent him from where she popped out of the hair and makeup trailer.  Looking away swiftly, he focused on Evelyn.  “Listen, you’re being ridiculous, don’t you think?  You’re as bad as all those Crisial shippers who think Irial and Cris Emerson are fucking, and it doesn’t help that you belittle people in front of Charlie.  He hates that.”

“He hates _me_ for whatever reason,” Evelyn huffed.

“We’re not in a place where we can move in together.  It’s way too soon,” Patrick evaded effortlessly.  Evelyn sighed, the fight leaving her, and Patrick felt himself breath, wrap his arms around her and letting her burrow against him as he tilted his head back and stifled a relieved sigh.

Patrick knew exactly why Charlie hated Evelyn.  Exactly why he refused to move out.  And that if he wanted to keep Charlie from being in an even worse position than he was already in that he had to keep his mouth shut and deny, deny, deny until he was blue in the face and so far in his own closet Simon Cowell and John Travolta would be impressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late! I know. Whoopsie. I was super sick yesterday, but I didn't forget you.
> 
> I teased you some more about Salem and Charlie, and, yes, I'm 100% planning on going more in depth in this story about why they broke up than I had in the previous one because it's really Charlie's story at all.
> 
> Evelyn...funny enough I don't dislike her. She's not necessarily a sympathetic character, but she's a bit willfully oblivious in the worst of ways. At least she's not evil like Georgia, though. Small mercies.


	6. "Snap Out Of It" by Arctic Monkeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties bring out the worst in people

**infochatrick**

So do we think all those quotes are Patty?

**youwerecoveredinblood**

100% absolutely deffo. Who tf else?

**beltanesbrodybae**

Patty’s actually openly dating Evelyn Merrit! Has been for a year! I mean I ship the bromance but it’s JUST a bromance

#not everything is a conspiracy #I blame larries #and the crisial shippers

**hellonarnia**

Ok but just because they’re not together doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be.

**21greatnoble**

Also **beltanesbrodybae** Chicken Little said the sky wasn’t falling and no one believed him either

#just saying #leave shippers alone #they literally do not hurt anyone #if they do the someone is homophobic anyway

 

**Charlie Beck hooking up with Autumn Fletcher?**

The young actor has only just ended his on-again off-again romance with _Angelfall_ co-star, Devon Rousse, but he seems to have moved on to folk singer, Autumn Fletcher.  The up-and-coming Sheffield singer/songwriter was spotted several times grabbing coffee and lunch with the actor. Reportedly the pair met at their mutual London gym, Kismet Fitness, after taking several spin and cycle classes together.  “They got on from the start,” said a friend of the singer. “She [Autumn] thinks he’s sweet and respectful, which is a total turn around from the usual type she dates. They’re just feeling each other out. It’s completely casual.” Casual or not, they’re so cute together we can’t wait to see more of them or hear Autumn’s new album, _West of Nowhere_.

 

To: Cast & Crew; theghostsofsalem@gmail.com; avery.helix@gmail.co.uk; israel.notthecountry@gmail.com

Cc: beck.charlie69@gmail.com

From: evelynhannahmerritt@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Patrick’s Birthday

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to extend an invite to Patty’s birthday, Thursday August 24th at 21:00 after filming wraps for the day. It’ll be at his home in Belsize Park, a little north of Camden. RSVP with myself or Charlie. Keep it quiet!

Hope to see you there.

Evelyn .xx

 

**Text message to Israel**

**Charlie:** You’re coming right?

 **Israel:** This isn’t a surprise party is it? He hates those.

 **Charlie:** I tried. I also ordered a years supply of Guinness

 **Israel:** Lol yeah im game

 **Charlie:** Bring Jazz!

 **Israel:** Yo stahp

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Happy birthday to my roommate, best mate, and absolute love @StPatty_

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ youre old dude! Happy birthday!

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@EvelynOfficially)**

Happy birthday to the love of my life and fantastic bf @StPatty_

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

I certainly am surprised like…

* * *

“What are you? Hiding?”

Charlie whirled around, eyes wide and infinitely grateful as he found Salem standing behind him with a smirk curling up the ends of his lips as he reached out to draw Charlie into a hug.  “Thank fuck you’re here,” Charlie moaned, stealing the beer right out of Salem’s hand and tossing it back.

Salem pursed his lips and cocked his head, but he made no move to reclaim his alcohol and Charlie was loathe to let it go.  He needed it more.  “So, yes to the hiding then?”

“I hate house parties,” Charlie said in answer, shaking his head profusely and making Salem laugh.  He looked over at Salem as he hopped up onto the window ledge and swung his legs cheerfully, flicking his fire truck red hair out of his eyes and beaming up at Charlie. He curled up his lips. “I would have rented out a pub or a restaurant or fucking Buckingham Palace.  I _hate_ house parties, and since _Evelyn_ doesn’t actually live here she’s not the one who has to clean.”

“You have a cleaning service,” Salem deadpanned.

“I also have a dog I had to lock upstairs in my bedroom.”

Salem half-shrugged and nodded as he pulled out a blunt, stilling and glancing up at Charlie.  He quirked an eyebrow at Salem who smirked.  “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I mind the arseholes doing cocaine in my bathroom.”

“So no then?”  Salem nodded sagely as pulled out a lighter and lit the blunt with a nonplussed expression. He peered up at Charlie through the curtain of his hair.

Charlie sulked for another half a minute before dropping to sit down beside Salem, blowing out air through his lips and letting himself pout at not getting to spend the night with Patrick or plan a party that his best friend might have actually enjoyed because of _Evelyn_. Salem wouldn’t judge him for it anyway. He looked over at Salem whose only response was to raise his eyebrows in wordless inquisition. “Can I have a hit?”

Salem laughed, “I know better.”

“I need it,” Charlie whined.  Salem laughed harder.  That was the problem with having a best friend who knew him so well, Charlie figured. He’d bitch about the stench that clung to him tomorrow if he _did_ smoke, and he was sensitive enough to get a contact high with Salem smoking just _next_ to him. He’d been nearly catatonic when they’d hot-boxed with some of Salem’s MIT dormmates years ago. “Didn’t bring the boyfriend?”

“ _You_ told me not to,” Salem replied blithely.

Charlie hummed as his lips turned up in a smile, and he leaned over to bump his arm against Salem’s.  “Didn’t bring the bae?”

Salem groaned, “You spend way too much time on Tumblr.” He smiled wider, and Salem shook his head but answered with: “Bailey’s doing some weird team building thing with Carey and Ben, which I think is actually just them trying to get him drunk at a pub since Ben plays for Chelsea.”  Salem shrugged and smiled over at Charlie, “If I get a drunken call at midnight from a bartender to pick him up I’ll know, won’t I?  So what is this party?  Did you draw the short straw?”

Charlie gritted his teeth and faked a smile that he knew Salem could see through.

It wasn’t for his benefit, though.

All around him, Charlie could see his space being invaded. Granted, he knew almost everyone in the room by name as well as their girlfriends/boyfriends/best friends/partners, but that absolutely did not mean he wanted them in his house.

His first and last house party had been thrown in his Los Angeles residence back when he’d still been knee-deep in Disney Channel. Suffice to say, Charlie hadn’t realized that repressed Disney stars could out-party alcohol-fueled club kids from Britain.  It had been mind blowing and fun…until he’d woken up the next morning with his house smelling like booze, marijuana, and vomit with several people passed out, the carpet beyond repair, and fluids in the pool that made him absolutely uncomfortable. He’d thrown everything out, hired a cleaning service, and _moved the fuck out_.

Call him OCD, but he absolutely could not handle mess or stains.

If one person vomited or spilled something Charlie was not above a complete renovation from the ground, up.  It was _that_ kind of severe obsession.

Patrick knew this, which is why he’d never thrown a house party at their home the entire two years they’d lived there no matter what kind of party animal he could be.  Just like how Charlie knew how much Patrick hated surprises and had radically rallied against this idea since its inception.  Of course, he’d been outvoted by Evelyn who’d pulled the ‘I’m the girlfriend’ card and then dropped the bombshell that it should be in their ‘ridiculously posh mansion’ instead of her _equally_ posh flat in St. John’s Wood.

Charlie had retaliated by telling Patrick via sticky note on his bedroom mirror.

Whoops.

“I had to deal with Evelyn,” he spat through clenched teeth and accompanied by an eye roll as he watched with a curled lip as a member of the sound department tripped over the leg of the coffee table and nearly spilled the entire cup of red wine onto Charlie’s pristine white carpet.  He pursed his lips and forcibly turned back to Salem who watched him through the coiling smoke of his weed with a knowing glint in his eye and a bemused smirk.  Arsehole. “Last year she was too new to pull rank. This year she demanded to take charge and organized an ill-fated surprise party at a house she’s unwelcome in.”

“Nice,” Salem nodded.  “I’m assuming you spoiled the surprise.”

“Well, no one died so…” Charlie shrugged, wincing as their stylist’s assistant stumbled over his Ming vase and tumbled to the ground, her Jack and Coke going with her.  Salem grimaced and Charlie dropped his head onto his shoulder with a dejected look. “I’m gonna have to rip out the whole fucking carpet, aren’t I?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say—Issie!”  Salem cried joyfully as ze appeared from the midst of the crowd with a bottle of Lucozade in hand.  Ze grinned at Salem and nodded at him as a second person appeared behind hir.  “Jazz!”

“I thought you weren’t bringing the spare,” Charlie teased, rising to hug hir and kiss hir cheek.

“Kindly refrain from calling my girlfriend ‘the spare.’”

Jazz had been Israel’s on and off girlfriend almost as long as Charlie had known hir, though Charlie figured longer.  They never seemed to date anyone else when they were ‘off,’ but every few months Israel started off conversation with ‘my cunt ex’ and less than six weeks later would show up all loved up with her.  Jazz was a bigender demisexual that Israel had met at some LGBTQIA meet-up at hir former university who Israel never referred to as anything other than ‘Jasper’ just to piss her off.  She started each conversation with strangers off with ‘I prefer female pronouns’ and looked perfectly androgynous from her curvy yet lean frame to her naturally ombre hair that fell just passed her shoulder blades.

“Why didn’t you want to bring me?”  Jazz teased hir, batting her fake, rainbow eyelashes at Israel as she wrapped her toned arms around Salem, pressing a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “Is this because I ate your chocolate cake?”

“You are actually a cunt,” Israel remarked making Jazz toss back her head and laugh. “God, it’s like the _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ all up in your house, babes.”

“Do not remind me,” Charlie moaned, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair and wilting as his eyes skirted around the room. He sighed and grimaced, shaking his head and leaning into Jazz.  “I love your shirt, Jazz.”  It was long enough to brush the tops of her feet, sleeveless, and sheer.  Somehow paired with a red crop top, black short shorts, and sparkling gold heels, she’d managed to look effortlessly fabulous and completely at odds with Israel’s devil-may-care attire.

“Thanks lovely,” Jazz beamed.  “MM6. And yours is…Saint Laurent?”

“His favorite,” Salem said simultaneously with Charlie’s succinct, “My fav.”

They paused and glanced at each other before giggling, Charlie automatically beginning to twist the ring on his right middle finger. Without looking at him, Salem reached out and caught his hand, squeezing it comfortingly, and Charlie looked sideways at him, swallowing back the bile that had built and held in him for almost three years.

A shrill squeal cut through his melancholy.

Lovely. Evelyn was drunk.

Israel tensed and took the Proseco out of hir girlfriend’s hand just as Evelyn appeared and hurled herself at Jazz who tensed as the girl hugged her tightly and pressed a kiss to her cheek, giggling.  Salem’s eyebrows rose while Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and met Israel’s furious gaze, wincing automatically.

Patrick appeared behind his girlfriend, gently squeezing Israel’s arm as he passed to pry his girlfriend off of Jazz who watched her with a guarded, arctic expression as she moved a step closer to Charlie. Patrick let Evelyn cling to him, giggling as she peppered kisses and bites along his neck.  He shot Israel and Jazz apologetic looks in turn, smiling at Salem who nodded once and stopping on Charlie to give him a weak smile that never failed to make Charlie’s heart race and his stomach twist in a knot of want and pain that seemed forever destined to be intertwined.

Salem smacked his hip discreetly as he took another hit of his blunt, not flinching when Israel snagged it from his fingertips and took a long, pointed hit off of it.  Jazz and Israel both had serious issues with touch for whatever reason.  Israel accepted Charlie’s hugs because they’d long since established their friendship and a mutual understanding that Charlie’s tactical nature meant nothing overtly sexualized and never ever would. The number of times he’d seen hir publicly touch hir girlfriend could be counted on one hand.

Choosing the least dangerous person to address, Patrick cleared his throat nervously as Evelyn ran a hand over his chest, pressing close to his side and working with dedication on a lovebite high on his neck.  Charlie pursed his lips and shifted awkwardly, rolling his eyes and running a trembling hand through his hair.  Jazz picked up on his anxiety and cocked her head, locking her rainbow-contacted eyes on him with sympathy.

“Hi Salem.”

Salem opened his mouth to respond, and Israel blew a puff of weed into Patrick’s face with a wane smile.  “Stop her. Miriam will absolutely flip shit if you show up on set tomorrow with a bruise the size of fucking Russia.”

Nodding blithely, Salem laughed out, “Hi Patty.  Evelyn.”

Patrick detached her, and she locked her gaze on Salem with a bright smile. “Salem!”

“Fuck,” Salem cursed, just managing to catch the stumbling woman as she flung herself into his arms.

“You didn’t bring your boyfriend?”  Evelyn pouted before shooting a venomous look at Charlie who stiffened and sneered instinctually.  Patrick shot him a pleading glance, and Charlie huffed and shook his head, ignoring the painful tightening in his chest.  He reached out and stole Jazz’s Proseco, tossing it back.  Israel raised hir eyebrows at him and took another hit of Salem’s blunt. “I told Charlie to fucking invite him. Everyone’s welcome!”

“Are they actually?”  Salem asked lightly with a fake smile that made Charlie duck his head to hide his smile. Patrick gave Salem a disbelieving look that resulted in a dispassionate, unconcerned half smile. “Happy birthday, Patty. I thought you didn’t like house parties.”

Charlie smirked smugly, and Patrick winced and grimaced. “Not my idea.  I already called the cleaning service Charlie loves. They’ll be out before we’re even up tomorrow.”

“Charlie needs to get a fucking grip,” Evelyn complained loudly.

“Stop Evelyn,” Patrick told her firmly, shooting a desperate look at Charlie who only flinched as he absorbed the hit from the girlfriend of the straight man he had the supreme misfortune to be in love with.

Evelyn groaned and pawed at Patrick’s waistband as she ground against him, drunk, desperate, and horny.  Israel’s lip curled, and ze took another long hit from Salem’s blunt while Jazz cocked her head, going so far as to rest her fingertips lightly on Charlie’s forearm in a quiet, solid display of unity.  Charlie appreciated it even if it didn’t make the sight any easier. God he needed more alcohol if he was going to endure this.

“God he’s such a buzzkill.  _And_ a cockblock. And the way he fucking _looks_ at you sometimes like if he wasn’t such a fuckboy I’d wonder,” Evelyn told Patrick.

“Wow,” Israel deadpanned.

“You stop her or I will,” Salem told Patrick with a quiet intensity that had him flinching.

“She’s just drunk,” Patrick pleaded with Charlie who shook his head with a weak smile and absolutely transparent attempts to mask the pain.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It _is_ ,” Jazz and Israel said together.

Patrick ran a hand through his hair and tossed Charlie another long, unreadable look. For half a second, Charlie softened…and then he noticed Evelyn licking a stripe up Patrick’s neck and biting on his earlobe.  Giggling when Patrick flinched away from her and looked down with frustration.

“Evelyn,” Patrick said sternly, turning to Charlie.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?  She’s your girlfriend,” Charlie said with a tone he knew instinctively was bitter.

“Yeah, I fucking am,” Evelyn whined, rolling her eyes as she pulled back and slung her arms around Patrick’s neck.  “So can you stop entertaining your _best friend’s_ disturbing need to claim your attention to himself before he pees on you like the fucking dog he is and fuck me please?”

“Wow,” Israel said again.

“That’s enough,” Salem snapped harshly enough to grab Evelyn’s attention even in her drunken state.  Whirling around, Evelyn blinked at him in surprise as he bridged the minimal distance between them to cross his arms over his chest and stare at her with a sneer that her shrinking into Patrick who seemed no less put out than Salem or mortified than Jazz and Israel.  “You’re such a—”

“Sale,” Charlie caught his arm, tugging him back and pressing his face into his shoulder.  “Leave it.”

“No.” Salem turned around, putting both his hands on Charlie’s shoulders and lowering his voice so no one else could hear them.  “Even knowing what _I_ know about you and Patty, she _still_ doesn’t get to talk to or about you like you’re trash.  Do you understand me?  I’ve never let anyone talk about you like that, and I won’t start now.”

Charlie nodded silently, wrapping his arms around Salem’s waist and stifling a sob in his shoulder.

“Chaz,” Patrick started.

“Not now,” Salem returned coldly.  “Not tonight.  And not with your big-mouthed, drunken ass girlfriend pawing at you in front of him.”

Patrick pressed two fingers to the back of Charlie’s hand on Salem’s stomach but didn’t dare argue with him.  “Come Evelyn, we should get you home before you thoroughly embarrass yourself in front of anyone else, don’t ya think?”  Charlie glanced over Salem’s shoulder and watched him gingerly guide his trashed, handsy girlfriend towards the front door, looking back at Charlie with an expression that seemed both longing and regretful, though he could have been projecting.

He hid his face against Salem’s leather jacket until Jazz sighed and bridged the distance between herself and Israel, plucking the blunt out of her partner’s fingers and inhaling deeply, leaning forward to press a hot kiss to hir lips.  Jazz pulled back with a blissful smile.  “You always take me to the best parties, Is,” Jazz intoned sarcastically.

Israel huffed and stole back the blunt.  “God she’s such a cunt.  Patrick needs to stop being so goddamned pussy-whipped.”

“Or something,” Salem remarked offhandedly as he turned to Charlie, cupping his tearstained face in his hands.  “Need anything?”

Sniffling and letting Salem wipe the tears from his eyes, Charlie shook his head. “Not unless you can miraculously make the guy I’m in love with decidedly less straight and preferably sans girlfriend?”

Salem gave him a long-suffering look and shook his head. “Anything tangible? I know I’m a motherfucking magician, but I’m not a genie.”

Laughing wetly, Charlie shrugged, “Would Bailey mind if I stole you for a night?”

“Not his boyfriend?”  Jazz asked from where she and Israel had taken to passing the marijuana back and forth between them.

“No,” Charlie spat in disbelief.

“I’m sure he’ll deal.  I’ll run to the off-license and grab Haagen Dazs, maybe order some Domino’s? Let you watch shitty chick flicks while I pretend to hate the cuddling?”  Charlie beamed and nodded.  Salem hugged him as he glanced over at Jazz and Israel.  “You two in?”

“Ooh, puppy pile with sexy boys,” Jazz teased, waggling her eyebrows while Israel rolled hir eyes and shrugged one shoulder.  “I’m all for free pizza and copious amounts of shitty movies.”

“You can tell Bailey he can join after his bonding thingy,” Charlie offered magnanimously.

“Nah,” Salem drawled, looking around at the party quickly spiraling out of control.  “He’s even less a fan of parties than you so I think he’ll pass, but thanks for the offer Chazza.”

“I’m a great person like that.”

Charlie managed to crack a genuine smile when both Salem and Israel devolved into uncontrollable laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Salem is back! He'll be back quite a lot I'd say. Bailey too.
> 
> Evelyn's a big-mouthed drunk and Salem does not like her. Jazz and Israel literally make my life.
> 
> And happy Monday everyone! I should be writing essays for my journalism and publishing classes but I'm doing this instead (shh, don't tell anyone).


	7. "Movie Star" by Hayley Kiyoko

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 2015: Patrick and Charlie move in together

**Text message to Charlie**

**Mummy:** I absolutely protest this move

**Charlie:** Noted

**Mummy:** Is this necessary. I just got you back :(

**Charlie:** Ive left you Sadie tho

**Mummy:** Apollo will miss you

**Charlie:** As long as Pol has food he wont notice

**Mummy:** Youre too young for this

**Charlie:** Ive been living on my own for years

**Charlie:** Ill be fine

**Mummy:** I’m not happy

**Charlie:** <3

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Salem:** Who is this man you’re moving in with babe?

**Charlie:** Just a friend

**Salem:** umhmm

**Charlie:** Honest! He’s my costar. Patrick Gallagher. Irish.

**Salem:** Sexy.

**Charlie:** I hooked up with him at Warped.

**Salem:** Just a friend my ass! Lol.

**Charlie:** He doesn’t remember

**Salem:** Come again???

**Charlie:** He doesn’t remember us hooking up.

**Salem:** Bullshit, he’s Irish!

**Charlie:** He didn’t even know me Kostya.

**Salem:** He’s a lying liar who lies.

**Charlie:** Is he? Who’s Michael?

**Salem:** I plead the fifth.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Moving in today with my boy @CharlieBeck xxxx

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ I’m so excited! Just know we’re christening it with a Hush Hush film marathon

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck omfg noooo! Only if you want to stream your Disney show.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ so we should watch Free Willy right?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ just to clarify I mean the amazing trilogy about orcas not whatever porno that tilted spawned

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck I’m lowkey glad you clarified but you’re welcome to free your willy while we watch;)

* * *

Charlie smiled softly at the screen of his mobile phone as he typed out a reply, the white backlight of the screen illuminating his face and heightening the sparkle in his eye. He bit his lip with a soft smile from where he’d given up pretense of work to lounge across Patrick’s mattress heedless of the piles of folded sheets, blankets, and pillows that he’d only had half a moment to toss in as they’d been instructing the movers with their recent purchases between helping to carry their own boxes into the home.

Leaning against the doorframe, Patrick swiped a flyaway strand of hair from his eyes as he watched Charlie with a slight smile on his lips. Even lacking his usual brand of designer threads in just a pair of sweatpants, an ancient Jack Wills t-shirt that had rips in it, and with a beanie pulled low on his head, Charlie Beck didn’t look anything other than gorgeous, literal sunshine, adorable. Worse, though, he looked seventeen, which Patrick’s twenty-one year old arse didn’t mind in terms of being flatmates but certainly did when he even considered in an abstract way that they’d slept together.

Drunk had never been reliable, and emancipated or not, amazing or not, fucking a seventeen year old never should have happened.  Ever.

“You gonna stand there and watch all day or are you going to prove what a big strong macho man you are by setting up the telly?”  Charlie asked with a smirk, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Patrick huffed and smiled slightly at being found out, reaching down to heft up his flat screen and drag it over to the dresser, setting it on top carefully before peering around for his surge protector.

Charlie smirked and held it up, letting it dangle from his fingers as he quirked an eyebrow at Patrick.  He pretended to huff as he snagged the cord from him, and Charlie scoffed, his eyes roving over Patrick’s body in a way that was simultaneously both pointed and discreet. He could feel himself heat, his cock twitching with interest, and he turned away quickly to work back on setting up the television, trying to ignore the flush climbing the back of his neck at feeling Charlie’s eyes remaining on him.

“Who are you texting, then?”  Patrick asked to distract himself, “Girlfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Charlie returned with an odd tone to his voice.

Patrick winced as he glanced back at Charlie to find him staring unseeing at the screen.  “Really? You stay friends with your exes?”

“Excuse you,” he answered with a forced lightness to his voice, “my ex-boyfriend is amazing.”

“If you say so.”  Patrick shifted uncomfortably, turning back to what he was doing.

He could hear Charlie shift to sit up behind him, feel the weight of his eyes on the back of his neck.  “What? You such a playboy you never stay friends with any of your ex-girlfriends?  Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am?”

“How old are you again?”  Patrick replied, turning to stare at Charlie and dropping the plugs from his hand.

Charlie rolled his eyes and dropped his phone on the bed as he rose smoothly, plugging in Patrick’s television, game system, and the box for the cable with quick, practiced hands.  Since Charlie hardly seemed the type to have ever _needed_ to work with his own appliances, it certainly raised Patrick’s eyebrows.

Smirking but refusing to answer the silent question, Charlie carded his fingers through Patrick’s hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek.  “Aw, baby, someday you’ll be a big boy and be able to plug in all your toys.”  Laughing and narrowly avoiding him attempted swipe, Charlie hopped back onto the bed gracefully, sticking his tongue out at Patrick as he wrapped himself in a fleece blanket, picking up his phone again.

Rolling his eyes and following Charlie onto the bed, Patrick plopped down beside him, grabbing the remote from amid a pile of pillowcases to flick on the television.  He rested his head in Charlie’s lap, letting his eyes fall half shut as the blissful, peaceful feel of the boy’s fingers in his hair lulled him into contentment.

“I’ll have you know that I’m on perfectly friendly terms with all my exes,” Patrick told Charlie, his stomach clenching when he felt Charlie’s hands stutter and still in his hair.  He could feel the indecision in Charlie, that mind of his puzzling over his words and trying to identify what exactly Patrick had just told him.

Lying about remembering drunken sex with a minor who he’d be working with at least for the next five years was one thing, but Patrick wasn’t sure how dedicated he was to maintaining some kind of double life to hide his sexuality from Charlie.  Fuck if he didn’t want Charlie, and Patrick knew with absolute certainty that Charlie wanted him too. Still, Patrick could and _would_ wait until Charlie turned eighteen, then and only then could they approach this _thing_ between them with any kind of seriousness.

Until them he needed Charlie to stay adorable not transform into the hyper-sexual creature that oozed sensuality that Patrick had had in his bed less than three months ago and drawn three orgasms out of in a single night.

Really, he needed some distance between those two facets of Charlie’s personality.

Deciding to let go of the throwaway comment, Charlie went back to raking his fingers through Patrick’s hair as he hummed thoughtfully. “If you say so. I’m not sure I believe you. You’re sexy, Irish, and have your tongue and nipples pierced.”

“I feel like I’m being objectified,” Patrick said playfully, sticking his tongue out at Charlie whose eyes went dark as he focused on the stud he’d become intimately acquainted with.  Patrick reached up to tug on one of Charlie’s curls, watching raptly as he bit his lip to stifle a moan, his eyes rolling back.  His whole body went hot, heart racing, and Patrick pulled back quickly, playing with the cross around his neck as Charlie’s face showed his struggle to get his reaction under control, eyes snapping open to lock on Patrick with unconcealed lust he felt almost certainly Charlie hadn’t intended him to see.  He smiled wickedly, “Don’t tell my mother.”

“Terrible,” Charlie muttered, rolling his eyes playfully and catching Patrick’s hand when he reached up to cuff him lightly on the jaw.  Beaming, Charlie intertwined their hands and rested their hands on Patrick’s chest, reaching for his mobile phone as it chimed again.

Patrick’s eyebrows rose.  “Ex, huh?”

“Ex, uh-huh?”  Charlie answered absently, a smile spreading across his lips and his fingers rubbed over Patrick’s knuckles.

“You sure?”

Charlie tensed so rigidly that Patrick nearly jolted, but it dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared, though Charlie’s face had gone hard. “We’re not together. He’s hooking up with this guy who’s been _obsessed_ with him two doors down from his dorm room.  It’s fine.”

It didn’t _sound_ fine.

For enthusiastically as he and Charlie had fucked in California, Patrick had never considered Charlie had had a significant other, and despite his fervent denials, he could sense something off about Charlie and his…ex who, dating or not, didn’t seem like an ex.

“Did he break up with you?”

There was long pause.

He waited.

Face set and lips pressed together in a hard line, Charlie snagged the remote from Patrick’s free hand as he tightened his hold on Patrick’s other hand. Silently, Charlie flicked on the television and thumbed through Netflix until he settled on streaming _The 100_ instead of what Patrick figured was the feel-good _Free Willy_ flicks. Patrick didn’t want to get overly philosophical, but choosing a television show about a bunch of delinquent teenagers who killed each other and were used as experiments to inhabit a hostile world soaked in radiation over the inspirational film series about a boy who found himself and a home in saving an orca whale being mistreated by a theme park said a lot about Charlie’s mood.

“No.”

That surprised Patrick, and he tilted his head back to meet Charlie’s pained sapphire eyes, his heart breaking when Charlie forced himself to give Patrick a painful, fake smile.

“I broke up with him.”

“Why?” Patrick couldn’t help but ask.

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Charlie snapped.

Patrick sat up, “Hey.”  Charlie shook his head, and Patrick reached out and pulled him into a hug, listening as Charlie controlled his breathing, eyebrows drawing together in concern and confusion. “Hey, it’s fine. That’s all you had to say, sunshine.”

Charlie cuddled against him, half in his lap, and pressed his face into the base of Patrick’s neck, his voice muffled as he asked, “Really?”

“I’m not your mother,” Patrick told him, running a hand over his head gently. “I’m not going to push you to tell me all about your day.”

“I love my mum.  I’d tell her if I got a pair of piercings she wouldn’t approve of.”

“Had to throw that in there didn’t you?”

Charlie giggled and pulled back to grin at Patrick.  His eyes still held a sadness Patrick ached to understand and a wealth of unshed tears Charlie seemed determined to prevent from falling. “You ought to maintain open lines of communication with your mother.  It’s good for the soul.”

It took effort, but Patrick didn’t wince.  Instead, he gave a blasé smile that he hoped came across as genuine rather than poorly feigned.  Honestly, between the two of them and hiding their emotions he wondered how they both made actual money as actors.  Either they were both shit but attractive enough no one cared or could just read each other better than Patrick felt comfortable with.

Of everything that had been intrinsically wrong with his and Torin’s relationship that _hadn’t_ been Patrick’s fault, their being deep deep deep in the closet wasn’t one of them.

They’d known each other all through high school when Patrick had been experimenting with his sexuality, dating both girls and guys interchangeably until he felt comfortable enough in his own sexuality to say he was an unashamed bisexual.  At least, in private. Then and only then had Torin accepted the numerous sexual overtures Patrick had aimed his way since Year 10. They’d dated since before Patrick had fucked off to Los Angeles to try and become an actor, moved in together in LA while Torin and his ragtag Irish rockband had tried to find a label, and dated for nearly three years.

Not a single one of those years had Patrick ever told his mother.

As far as Kennedy Gallagher knew, the last partner Patrick had had was Mary Carnegie at the tail end of sixth form who he’d dated for a year before abruptly breaking up with when he’d headed for LA and she’d headed for university in Dublin.  Ever since his mother called him within hours of a pap picture of him hitting the Internet, asking him if he’d found a ‘girl to give me grandchild’ yet.

His earliest memory of his mother dealing with homosexuality had been her wrinkling her nose and quickly prodding Patrick and Maggie down the street telling them to keep their eyes ahead, but never mind that at twenty-one he probably shouldn’t be producing progeny.

Instead of coming out to risk alienating his staunchly Catholic family, Patrick had kept his mouth firmly shut, referred to Torin as his ‘best friend and roommate’ for years, and told his mother that he wanted to marry someone closer to home and didn’t have time for a relationship, he’d gone to LA to work. She had chosen to believe him, and Patrick’s incarcerated cousin, David, who’d run with the Irish Mob out of Belfast for ages, had been the one and only person in the family to know (and keep it quiet).  As much as David had done in his life or felt personally about Patrick’s ‘homosexual tendencies,’ Patrick held more than a little affection for him after he’d helped Patrick fight a gang of kids in his neighborhood who’d caught him kissing another boy when he’d been fifteen, called him a fag, and tried to beat him up for it.

David had spent three months in juvenile detention, and his only regret about that fight had been ‘not punching that smug bitch’s face in fucking harder, Patty.’

Patrick loved his mother too much to ever consider telling her something that would hurt her.  He could keep his secret until she passed.  Hell, he’d have to keep it longer to maintain his career.

“You tell your mother when you got that dumbass koi fish on your shoulder blade?” Patrick tossed back.

Charlie smiled and nodded his head, playing with the ring on his middle finger. He eyes flitted up to meet Patrick’s and widened.  “Of course. I think her exact words were ‘don’t you think that’s a degree of permanence you’re not ready for, darling?’”

“Didn’t you get emancipated at sixteen?”  Patrick inquired blankly.

Sighing exasperatedly, Charlie rolled his eyes, watching as Patrick shifted, sitting back against the headboard and reaching for his duvet. Honestly, he should have seen it coming when Charlie dive-bombed into his side and cuddled against him a brilliant display of fond-attacking.  Laughing slightly, Patrick threw an arm around Charlie who hummed and cuddled closer, resting his head on Patrick’s shoulder and arms around his waist as Patrick pulled the duvet up and around them.

He ran his fingers through the back of Charlie’s hair gently, and Charlie went on.

“Everyone thinks I got emancipated for some scandalous reason,” Charlie whispered conspiratorially.  “The press has been speculated forever even though I’ve told them it’s nothing sordid.”

“Why not tell the truth?”

“It’s none of their business,” Charlie responded with the heat or biting anger Patrick had expected from someone who’d been a celebrity since practically the minute he’d popped from the womb.

Patrick looked down at Charlie, gently carding his fingers through his downy curls, unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Why tell me?”

“Because I want you to know.”

And okay, Patrick felt a thrill go through him at an answer that was as good as any other.

“The first full length movie I ever officially acted in was in 2004. I was six.  And it was some historical fiction thing about the Red Army’s occupation of Germany post World War II.  I don’t remember any of it, but I remember people raved about it until I went to Disney, and that my father had only gotten the part because he assured the casting director that I would play his illegitimate son in the film and speak passable German.”

“You learned German at six?”  Patrick asked in surprise.

“No,” Charlie laughed.  “I learned German at _ten_.  I learned _just enough_ German at six to fake it till I made it.”  Shaking his head and giving a self-deprecating laugh that didn’t at all sit well with Patrick, Charlie admitted, “I’d done appearances in films and tv shows before that.  My mother pimped me out to one of her friends who was doing a children’s designer clothing line, but I didn’t mind that.  I love being in front of the camera, and I love clothes.”

“Yeah, I know,” Patrick groaned.

Charlie whacked his chest lightly and smiled against Patrick’s neck. Despite his age and general appearance, Patrick had seen Charlie shirtless, felt the coiled strength in him when they’d had sex.  That boy could easily bench press Patrick’s weight a dozen times over and not break a sweat. Despite that, Charlie had made lemonade (the American way) in the kitchen for the movers and played host while Patrick had lugged his extensive shoe and apparel collection up the stairs into his room.

Halfway through his multiple trips, he’d found Charlie leaning against the molding in the kitchen doorway munching on a chicken wrap and watching him with amusement.

“Fuck off, you adore me,” Charlie teased, and Patrick looked down at him and smiled, not contradicting that statement.  Blushing, Charlie shook his head and focused his eyes at the television.  “Anyway,” he adjusted his beanie nervously, “it didn’t really stop from there. I did about three films a year on average.  Only limited even then because mum wanted to see me, and my gran in Australia.  So I shuffled between London, Los Angeles, and Sydney. When my dad stopped wanting or needing his child to tag along with him to filming, I already had an agent, manager, publicist, and a PA because I’d become a full-fledged child star at eleven.

“My mum wanted me home, but my dad said I’d built up too much of an impressive portfolio to just hop into Year 7 and live in London like I’d never done anything.  Mum asked me what I wanted to do.”  Charlie met Patrick’s eyes and offered him a smile that seemed half furious and half melancholy, and though he couldn’t put his finger on it, he saw something like regret there. “My dad wanted me to act, and I wanted to make him happy.  I wanted him to care. And I was good at acting so I told her I wanted to stick with it.”

_And daddy issues strike again,_ Patrick thought to himself, not speaking as Charlie continued his story.

“Mum had her business based half in London and half in New York City. My sister, Poppy, was on her way to being an international supermodel, and my dad was working. My stepmother, Patricia,” Patrick quirked an eyebrow at the delicate and not altogether _nice_ way Charlie said her name, though he didn’t expand on it, “brought in her sister from Birmingham to be my legal guardian.  My mum hired tutors for me, and I lived with my entourage of adult shot-callers as I tried out different roles.

“Realistically my saving grace was that I _do_ enjoy acting, but it was also my escape.  I loved being a character outside of myself and immersing myself in it so I constantly took on differently roles in different genres, never let myself be typecast. If I had been, my whole life would have gone radically different, I think, especially considering my… _team_ and my _guardian_ who threw raunchy house parties with industry people who never remembered her name but loved to drink her out of the Ciroc she bought with my money, but I digress.

“Disney Channel offered me a job, and I took it because I wanted to spend time with people my own age for more than three months at a time. Also because they took over primary management of my career.”

“I thought you liked control over your career,” Patrick mused.

Charlie nodded his head profusely, eyes sparkling with amusement as he looked up at Patrick, lips pressed together.  “God, yeah, I do.  That’s why Disney and I had to part ways, not so coincidentally after I turned sixteen. What happened was, we disagreed, but my guardian liked the money, my publicist like the brand image, my manager liked my employment opportunities, and my agent didn’t like my chances breaking out Disney when I didn’t sing and had nothing to go on since I was thirteen except a sitcom and D-Com films.  They said no and had the right to because I was a minor.”

Patrick could see where this was going, could see that Charlie had about a hundred different sides to him, and that the angelic, boyish, delightfully charming face he showed most of the world didn’t even run the strongest within him. In another life, Charlie would have been the perfect con-man: brilliant, beautiful, endearing, and cunningly manipulative beneath that veneer of lovely perfection that seemed to shine so brightly from him.  If Patrick had to define his personality by a Hogwarts house, Charlie would have been picked out as a Slytherin before that hat even touched his head.

Drumming his fingers on Patrick’s hips and tugging up the fabric of Patrick’s shirt to brush those fingertips over the skin of his side, Charlie grinned wickedly, in a way that went straight to Patrick’s dick.  Fuck.

“I called my mum, told her I wanted to get emancipated because I wanted control over my career, and she didn’t argue.  Told me to fax over the paperwork and call up her accountant. Then I called my dad, he said he was glad I was taking a vested interest in my future and to contact his solicitor and financial planner.  And then, I got emancipated, made a clean break from Disney that didn’t involve shaving my head, fucking Justin Bieber, or getting addicted to being outrageous, and got myself back on track professionally and personally.”

Patrick looked down at the boy in his arms with a newfound respect. “You’re positively wicked aren’t you?”

Charlie offered him a roguish grin.  “’Course not, Trick.  I’m an absolute angel.”

He whispered this lowly, intimately in Patrick’s ear, his hand skimming up Patrick’s side and his lips just barely brushing over Patrick’s ear. He shivered, and Charlie laughed impishly.

Charlie Beck was no angel, but Patrick was definitely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who missed the era of D-COM films (they could still be called that...I don't actually know), they stood for Disney Channel Original Movies so that's basically what his filmography would have been comprised of for the three years Charlie had signed on with Disney.
> 
> Charlie and Salem...I keep hinting, but actually what happened between them is super important to what happens between Patrick and Charlie so I promise it's coming, I won't leave you in suspense forever.


	8. "Hit the Ground" by Justin Bieber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cast interviews with fake drama and personal lives with the drama thing

To: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

From: kimuramichi@gmail.co.jp

Subject: What did you send me?

Paaaaatttttttttyyyyyyyy

I’m just wondering if these characters are ever going to get over their angst? I mean our publisher says everything’s fine and that it’s good to send on to our editor, but honestly, even when I try to lighten up the angst you manage to properly convey it in the illustrations. I have brought it up before but I really think that maybe it’s passed time that Kaede and Ridley get together. Don’t you?

Let me know,

Kimura Michi

 

**RT by @StPatty_, @notthecountry, @EvelynOfficially, @CharlieBeck, @SightsOnSienna**

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

Only a week left until the season 3 premiere of Ethereal! Super excited to share it with ya’ll ;)

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Sadie:** They want to talk to you.

 **Charlie:** That’s too damn bad.

 **Charlie:** I do not want to talk to them

 **Sadie:** It’s about your interviews recently.

 **Sadie:** And Autumn Fletcher

 **Charlie:** Sadie I know what it’s about.

 **Charlie:** I just don’t give a fuck.

 **Sadie:** Xavier and Luka would like to know where you are and why you’re not answering them

 **Charlie:** I’m relaxing.

 **Sadie:** You’re so difficult. And why aren’t you answering them?

 **Charlie:** See above

 

To: kimuramichi@gmail.co.jp

From: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

Subject: RE: What did you send me?

Are you questioning my artistic choices, Michi?

Only kidding, but I just can’t really think in any shade except ‘pining’ these days, which probably says more about me than anything (I’m sure Salem’s no doubt enlightened you). How about this? When you grow some balls and talk to Katsu, I’ll let Kaede and Ridley get together in the manga.

Let me know when you finish the prelim draft for the next volume.

Patty

 

**Text message to Chaz**

**Poppy:** Dad and the wife are coming up for Christmas

 **Charlie:** Why?

 **Poppy:** He’s filming a movie in Hendon

 **Charlie:** I can pick up a job over the show-filming break. Meet you and mom in…NZ? I think.

 **Poppy:** God bless you Chaz

* * *

 

Charlie stood off to the side of the room with a coffee clutched in his hand as he watch Li Min ramble on with a sleepy, hooded look.  He held up a hand to stifle a yawn and turned a pleading look on Patrick who covered his amusement with a hand over his mouth and a bite of his doughnut.  He really didn’t understand why she got so worked up every time they did a promotional interview for the show, the show that would be airing in another few _day_ s, and that they’d all handled before.

Of all the people whose crap he would call out, Li Min wasn’t one of them.

Their show’s publicist had been plucked out of Korea where she’d originally moved from Beijing to work knee-deep in the k-pop entertainment industry. Charlie and Israel had chatted with her in a non-professional setting and gotten the short version of how she’d found the whole experience terrifying, unethical, and distasteful most of the time with manipulative contracts and overworking of artists by her former company. Taylor, though, had met her when she’d shot a film on-location in Seoul and agreed to hire her on for her major products.

That had been a decade ago, apparently, and Li Min never tired of criticizing how America and the UK functioned, their food, and their customs, but it was clear she was suited to her job and it to her, even if she did tend to work herself up over literally nothing.

“And why are you dressed like that?”  Li Min snapped at Charlie finally who blinked and looked down at himself wide-eyed and confused.

He’d gone for a Stella McCartney horse print blouse, tamer than his usual sheer fair, and a pair of skin-tight skinny jeans tucked into leather boots. Sleepily, he twisted the ring on his right hand and shook his head as he ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing it out of his eyes and narrowed them at Li Min with puzzlement. Patrick could certainly relate; Charlie looked amazing as per usual.  Other than the side effect to his libido what was the problem?

“What?”

“Okay,” Patrick interrupted before Li Min could lay into him about his fashion choices.  He plucked the coffee out of Charlie’s fingertips and set it down on the table as he wrapped an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and kissed his temple.  Li Min huffed, and Patrick leveled her with a quiet warning look. “You ready, Chaz?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and took a bite of Patrick’s doughnut. Li Min looked between them pointedly before throwing up her hands and marching of angrily murmuring about ‘dumbass boys who never notice anything’.  Tipping his head back as he leaned into Patrick, Charlie nodded.  “Fucking exhausted, but yeah, of course I’m ready. People act like we’ve never done this before.”

Patrick laughed and nodded as he guided Charlie towards the set. He almost stopped when he noticed Charlie’s manager making a beeline for him with a set jaw and stormy expression. Tension radiated from Charlie when he caught sight of the man approaching them, muscles growing taut, head tipping ever so slightly, and chin rising defiantly as his eyes locked and flashed with unmitigated fury on the man.  Angelic as Charlie came across to the press, him and his own team had been at odds since Patrick had met Charlie, and their tumultuous contractual relationship had never gotten any better.

Speeding up slightly and tugging Charlie away from his manager and towards the set of the show, Patrick didn’t manage to breath until Charlie relaxed slightly, noticing his manager stopping on the wings of the set.

Ignoring Evelyn’s eyes on him, Patrick sat down at the far end of the sofa and pulled Charlie down to sit down between him and Sienna. He threw his arm around Charlie’s shoulders and pressed his lips to Charlie’s temple as the younger man’s weight sagged against him.  He rested his hand on Patrick’s thigh and tapped his fingers anxiously, continuously glancing off set at his infuriated manager as the crew of the set fluttered around checking and double-checking everything.  Patrick, still ignoring Evelyn’s attempts to catch his eye, reached up to turn Charlie’s head towards Patrick, meeting his eyes and smiling softly.

“Ignore the arsehole, yeah?”

Charlie laughed quietly and nodded, letting Patrick press another kiss to his forehead.  Both of them leaned back as their interviewer stepped onto the sound stage.

Felicity Miller barely stood at five feet and despite being Patrick’s mother’s age couldn’t be reasonably be described as anything but adorable with her shoulder head of kinky brown curls, plump form always tucked into a floral dress and cardigan, and her Toms.  She sat primly, smiled at them all warmly, and looked off stage at her producer, waiting for the signal to start.

“We’re here with Sienna Mortimer, Evelyn Merritt, Hollis McQueen, Charlie Beck—”

“Hi Fee,” Charlie beamed with a boyish warmth that Felicity laughing and smiling.

“Hello again Charlie,” Felicity turned to Patrick with an affection eye roll, “And Patrick Gallagher.  How do you put up with this much charm, Patrick?”

“I hardly know.  It’s like sunshine being shot up in my veins every day.  Overwhelming absolutely.”

Felicity laughed delightedly, and Charlie gave him a feigned look of betrayal, elbowing him gently.  “I feel very attacked right now.  Aren’t we supposed to be talking about the _show_?”

“Excuses, excuses,” Patrick teased.

Felicity shook her head and smiled patiently.  “But not _untrue_. The third series of your show _Ethereal_ kicks off Thursday on September 22 nd.  How do you feel about it?  Nervous? Excited?”

“I think it’s always a little nerve-wracking, preparing to release a new series, isn’t it?  I mean you never know what people are expecting and you’re always trying to top the last one,” Evelyn admitted.

Hollis nodded, and Charlie spoke, “We’ve got a great writer, obviously. Israel is one of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure and honor of working with, and she has a very specific idea of how she wants things to go, when, why, and how.  The last series left us in a really bizarre place—”

“Ridiculous cliffhanger,” Patrick scoffed.  “I could’ve died.”

“You’re here aren’t you?”  Sienna teased, “So maybe not dead then?”

“Maybe not,” Patrick admitted.  Charlie met his eyes, and Patrick’s lips instinctively pulled into a soft grin. He tugged a lock of Charlie’s curly blond hair.  “So sorry I interrupted, cherub, carry on then.”

Charlie blinked at him, gaping with a mischievous, playful glint in his eye that Patrick caught onto.  He forced himself to keep his face straight as Charlie sputtered and shook his had dramatically. “I don’t think I want to now.” He turned and leaned towards Felicity, “No one ever listens to me.  Maybe I ought to just leave then.”

Felicity’s mouth dropped open in shock, and Hollis and Sienna looked over at him in surprise.  Patrick waved a hand dismissively and lounged back against the arm of the sofa.  “Oh go on then, sod off if you’re going to be such a baby about it. I thought we were supposed to be _talking about the show_ ,” Patrick tossed his words back at him.

“Well,” Charlie huffed, getting up.  Everyone made a sound of protest, and Patrick laughed as Charlie paused at the edge of the set, rocking back on his heels and smiling smugly over his shoulder. He crept back over with a wicked smile, “Only joking love, I wouldn’t do that you.  I mean I’d walk out on Trick, but not you, never you.”

Patrick scoffed as Charlie plopped back down beside him, crossing his legs and throwing one over Patrick’s knee as his arm went around him again. Fiona laughed delightedly.

Hollis pointed offset.  “You nearly gave Li Min a heart attack.”

Charlie colored and leaned around to look at their show’s publicist’s mortified face.  He held up a hand and blushed, “Sorry!”  He pouted and looked at Patrick, “No more practical jokes for me.”

Patrick patted his knee, “It’s really not your fault your jokes aren’t funny.”

“ _You_ laughed,” Charlie murmured.

Felicity shook her head and pointed a finger at Charlie who noticed only when Patrick prodded him, turning into a warm, boyish smile as looked at their interviewer.  “You’re a menace.” Charlie shook his head and blushed. Fiona nodded and so did Patrick. “Anything we should expect this series?”

“Spoiler alert,” Evelyn teased, shaking her head.

“It’s the midway through the show isn’t it?”  Hollis mused, “There are quite a bit of things that are introduced that have only been touched on before.  Brody’s parentage gets an in-depth look this series.”

“Her relationship with Cadeyrn?”  Felicity hedged, eyes sparkling.  “I’m such a fangirl for Cadeyrn and Brody.”

Hollis turned to Charlie whose lips curved up into a smirk. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on!”

“I can’t!”  Charlie protested, raising his hands innocently, “But I ship it, I do.”

“Uh-hm,” Felicity hummed skeptically.  “I imagine the first episode is going to pack quite a punch.”

“It had to, I think,” Patrick said.  “Last year ended with everyone in different places and nowhere safe. As far as everyone knows The Kelpie’s a traitor who sold them all out, Siobhan’s dragon has been taken and she herself imprisoned, Naoise’s wife is back and wants Killian’s head. Brody is…where are Brody and Ciara?” He asked, peering around Charlie to look at Hollis and Sienna.

They glanced at each other before Sienna replied, “Not where they’re supposed to be.”

Hollis laughed, “No.  Brody’s being detained by the Druidic Order on suspicion of murder for the men she mutilated in the pilot of series _one_.”

“Shh,” Evelyn joked, “let the Druids be a little slow.”

Sienna giggled.  “And didn’t Ciara runaway? Or she’s on the lamb? Yes, on the run, because of what The Kelpie did.”

“Right,” Patrick nodded.  “There’s a lot to reintroduce and establish.  The whole playing field is different now, I think, and trust is a valuable commodity. If you trust the wrong person now, you’ll be dead, and just because someone’s your friend or your lover, no longer means that they’re necessarily an ally.  It’s gonna be a fairly wild season.”

“Lots of action?”  Felicity inquired.

“Always,” Evelyn nodded.

“And drama and intrigue and romance,” Hollis drawled.

“I think in terms of where we are as a show where we don’t need to establish anything.  We’ve got the world. Viewers _know_ the world and its rules.  Now it’s all about intrigues—political and emotional—and the consequences of them, which, in _Ethereal_ , as in real life, tends to lead to drama and, um, violence, innit?”  Charlie laughed at the end, just managing to distract away from the introspective analysis that had most of the crew and cast side-eyeing him. Shrugging helplessly, Charlie beamed, “But I don’t know.”

Everyone laughed with amusement except Patrick who watched his best friend sit back with a charming smile and a cold calculating look in his eye. He wondered what it would take for them to get to a point where Charlie trusted the world enough to openly admit he wasn’t just another Hollywood-raised, brainless pretty boy.

* * *

When Charlie padded into his room with Snow at his heels, he found Patrick already lounging in his bed shirtless and rolling his eyes at whatever Evelyn was snapping over the phone. The light speckling of fine dark hair that Patrick allowed his chest to grow over the summer months when they weren’t filming for _Ethereal_ had been waxed off to reveal an unobstructed view of his muscular chest and delicious abs.  Charlie shook his head; he needed to get his shit together.

Patrick raised his eyebrows at Charlie as he set down the beers on his side-table and dropped the box of Domino’s on the end of the bed. Snow whined, and he gently lifted the round-eyed, pleading dog onto the bed.  Patrick smirked when Snow padded over to Patrick, burrowing against his side beneath the duvet and poked her snout out and pressing it against his side.  He yelped, and Charlie stuck his tongue out as he plopped down, cross-legged on the bed and flipped on the television.

“Evie,” Patrick sighed into the phone, glancing at Charlie and gesturing towards his wrist.

“Seven minutes,” Charlie told him blithely.

“Evie. Evelyn.  Stop.  Listen the show’s about to start.”  Patrick fell silent and rolled his eyes, sticking his tongue out in irritation as Charlie passed him a plate.  He balanced it on his lap as Charlie opened the box of vegi volcano pizza and passed a slice to Patrick.  Pausing, Patrick rested his phone against the pillow regardless of his girlfriend’s continuing speech to say with a pout, “Really?  Veggie pizza?”

“You’re lucky I let us get takeaway at all,” Charlie snapped and pointed at the phone.

Rolling his eyes, Patrick picked the phone back up and reached over to steal a potato wedge, smirking like a child when Charlie only raised his eyebrows. His smirk dropped to a frown then a frustrated scowl as he groaned and rolled his eyes. “Evelyn, why are we even still talking about this?  I spend ridiculous amounts of time with you just not _always_ when you _want_ …do not start please.”

“Two minutes,” Charlie told him, glancing sideways at him as he dipped a potato wedge in garlic sauce and tossed it into his mouth. Snow peaked her head out of the blanket to look at him with an innocent, wide-eyed, mournful expression focused primarily on the piece of pizza in his hand.  He narrowed his eyes at the dog.  “Don’t even start, Snow.”

She whined and pressed closer to Patrick who stroked her furry head and glared at Charlie for making her upset.  Idiots, that’s who Charlie loved, an absolute abundance of idiots.

 **Salem:** I am ready to watch you being weird on the tv!

Charlie snorted and rolled his eyes.

 _This_ was his best friend.

 **Charlie:** I thought u were 2 busy sulking over ur fight with Bailey?

 **Salem:** Suck my dick Charles.

 **Charlie:** Been there done that.

 **Salem:** Omfg stop!

When he heard Evelyn’s familiar voice come from the screen saying “last time on _Ethereal_ ,” Charlie reached for the remote and flicked Patrick’s thigh.  “It’s on Patty,” he called back.

“Shit, can we argue about this later, Evelyn?  I’m hanging up now.”

 **Salem:** You’re like one season away from white boy dreadlocks.

 **Charlie:** They’re braids you whore!

Patrick tossed his mobile phone across the room with a huff, apologizing softly to Snow when her head jolted up to stare at him with the kind of harried expression of an animal used to being abruptly awoken and subsequently punished. Eyebrows furrowing, Patrick frowned down at their dog with a disbelieving look before his gaze shifted up to Charlie.

“What do you do to her when I’m not home?”  Patrick teased.

Charlie scowled and tossed a potato wedge at him.  It bounced off Patrick’s forehead and was scooped up happily by Snow who proceeded to settle herself back at Patrick’s side. “You’re home with her more than I am.”

His mouth dropped open.  “Excuse me, is this a comment about my _work ethic_? I want a divorce.”

“You legitimately wouldn’t eat without me,” Charlie told him firmly, scooting up to settle himself as close to Patrick’s side as he could with the dog between them.  With a slight smile, Patrick watched him settle himself in the nest of pillows and up against the headboard.  “Eyes on the screen, Pattycake.”

“Sure thing Charlie Brown,” Patrick hummed playfully, turning his gaze back to the action on screen.  He leaned forward to grab a piece of pizza, and Charlie’s eyes followed his motion, more drawn to his best friend than the season premiere of the television show they’d been working on for the last two months.  Catching his eye, Patrick smiled softly, and Charlie yanked his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck and moving his plate to the sight so he could draw his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs.  He could feel Patrick’s eyes on him.  “Chaz?”

Clearing his throat and keeping his eyes straight ahead, Charlie asked, “What’s Evelyn want?”

“To watch the premiere together,” Patrick confessed.

“Why didn’t you?”

It was a petulant question, but Patrick didn’t call him on it. He reached over and rested his hand on the back of Charlie’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair.

“We have a tradition.”

When he said it that simply, it made the butterflies that seemed reserved for Patrick and Patrick alone flutter in his stomach. Things like that made it why Charlie couldn’t get over Patrick, though, to be fair, he hadn’t tried very hard. It would help if he dated, he supposed, but the last time Charlie had tried proper dating had ended disastrously even if he did maintain a strong and unconditional friendship with the man in question.

“She could have come,” Charlie forced out through his teeth, wincing as he watched himself get slammed into a wall onscreen.

Patrick snorted, “As magnanimous of you as that is, I don’t think anyone would like that, especially not my baby girl.”  Snow lifted her head and whined at him until Patrick smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her nose, raking his blunt nails over Charlie’s scalp. He bit his lip, forcibly keeping his breathing even as he stifled a moan and rolled back his eyes. God help him, he needed to get laid desperately.  Patrick continued on unaware of the extraordinary effort Charlie was putting in to keep himself from getting hard.  “I wish she’d just try to get along with you, I know that with everything that’s happen between _us_ ,” Charlie stiffened and whirled his gaze around to stare at his best friend with wide eyes, barely breathing.

_He didn’t…he couldn’t…_

“Breathe, Charlie, Jesus.”  Charlie drew in a long, jagged breath, blinking at Patrick who’d moved, cupping his face in his hand and holding gaze.  Shaking his head and blinking dazedly, Charlie leaned into Patrick’s touch and breathed, listening to Patrick sigh with relief and press a kiss to his forehead. “What was that?”

“I…uh…” Charlie shrugged.  “Sleep deprivation?  How early do we have to be on set tomorrow?”

Patrick watched his silently for a moment, uncertainty and what looked like regret flashing across his face before washing away quickly. His lips quirked up in a slight smile. “You’re not in at all, are you? Plenty of time for you to catch up on sleep, hmm?”

“I guess,” Charlie pouted.  “Maybe I’ll go to my mum’s, take Apollo out for a hack.”

Running a hand through Charlie’s hair as he sat back, Patrick nodded, “Might be good for you to get some fresh air.”

Charlie nodded before frowning and glancing back to Patrick anxiously. “What were you saying about us and Evelyn?”

He noticed the slight hesitation in Patrick before he smiled genially and shrugged.  “That she’s uncomfortable with how close we are, and she hasn’t always been the nicest because of it.” Turning, Patrick met Charlie’s eyes and put a hand on the side of his neck, running his thumb along his jawline as their gazes held, the air seeming to electrify and a shiver running through Charlie that he fought to stifle.  “I know it hasn’t been easy for you…to deal with her…but I really appre…I just…I love you, you know that, yes?”

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugged, swallowing the hard lump that rose in his throat, the bile that came with the selfish thought that Patrick didn’t love him enough, not the way Charlie loved him.

Nodding slowly, Patrick gave him a sad smile.  “Good.  You’re the most important thing in my life.  That’s not gonna change.”

“That’s why she hates me,” he told Patrick.

Patrick nodded, “Yeah, but she’s gonna have to get over it.”

“And if she can’t?”

Half-smiling as he looked over to Charlie, Patrick shook his head and admitted, “It’s no great loss, sunshine.  It’s not like I was gonna marry her anyway.”

“I want you to be happy,” Charlie whispered quietly.

Patrick smiled as his eyes filled, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Charlie’s, their eyes falling closed as their breathing synced. When Patrick’s second hand came back up to cup the back of Charlie’s neck, he opened his eyes and met his best friend’s dark eyes.  “I’m not the one you ought to worry about Chaz.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the interviewer's name midway through the chapter so if you spot a Fiona, it's supposed to be Felicity and shoot me a message please to let me know. Happy Friday! I feel like I 100% should have tagged this 'super slow burn' except not really. They're weird. They're settled and domestic, but they never actually had a honeymoon stage because they never actually had a relationship, and now we're stuck in the land of sexual tension and girlfriends. We're getting there, i promise. There will not be a whole story of this level of pining.
> 
> Also, do not judge me for listening to Justin Bieber. His new album is actually surprisingly good, but that still doesn't make him...decent.


	9. "Ghost" by Halsey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween gets Rocky Horror-fying

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

A mental mind fuck can be nice

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck I got you fam!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck @13poppies if only I was amongst friends…or sane persons.

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ omfg not this again! Ya’ll are singularly obsessed…

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

@notthecountry come up to the lab and see what’s on the slab. I see you shiver with anticipation!

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@EvelynOfficially)**

Dear Lord no! My castmates are determined to kill me #swear

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Luka the Hun:** We don’t want to police you Charlie. You’re an adult.

 **Luka the Hun:** Just try to remember the terms of your contract.

 **Luka the Hun:** No one wants a repeat of last year.

 **Charlie:** You mean where I went out as Divine from Pink Flamingo?

 **Luka the Hun:** In DRAG Charlie!

 **Charlie:** Or where I got papped kissing Soren Reid?

 **Charlie:** You’re lucky no one caught me giving head in the powder room, Luka.

 **Luka the Hun:** You’re lucky you were both drunk and Soren was dating your sister.

 **Charlie:** Guess you and my manager are gonna be pissed to hear I’m going as Frank n Furter from Rocky Horror

 **Luka the Hun:** Fuck no Charlie.

 **Luka the Hun:** That better be a joke.

 **Charlie:** ;D Happy Halloween! xxx

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.com; israel.notthecountry@gmail.com; bigbearmahon@gmail.co.uk; siennammortimer@gmail.co.uk; owlguardiansoren@gmail.co.uk; 13poppiesdaphne@gmail.com; stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk; jazzerciseper@gmail.co.uk; evelynhannahmerrit@gmail.co.uk; hollisfromnyc@gmail.com; hou.li.min@gmail.co.uk; dexterslab@gmail.co.uk

From: sweetlysadieaus@gmail.com

Subject: Oct 31 Rocky Horror

As it stands, I’ve booked tickets for everyone at that pop-up cinema that’s doing a showing of Rocky Horror Picture Show. I’ve been contacted by several people’s managers, and the staff and actors have agreed to sign NDAs but the rest of the audience has not so don’t get too crazy. Wardrobe got in the costume you ordered through him and says you can pick them up any time on either Monday or Tuesday, and Scout has let me know that no matter how drunk you all get you are expected to show up on Wednesday at your call-times and ready to work.

For any one who is unaware of your costumes or characters, the list is:

Frank-n-Furter: Charlie

Brad: Soren

Janet: Sienna

Magenta: Poppy

Riff Raff: Mahon

Columbia: Jazz

Eddie Ex: Israel

Rocky Horror: Patrick

Let me know if you have any questions,

Sadie

* * *

 

If Charlie wasn’t fucking the man playing Columbia out of the official West End performers who’d banded together to celebrate Halloween with a nice pop-up screening of _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ , then…

Patrick didn’t know what.

Actually, yes he did.  He knew they were fucking.

Really, he wanted to put his jealousy in a box, lock it up tight, and pretend it didn’t exist, especially when it was so irrational from someone with both a steady girlfriend and existed _as_ the catalyst for his best friend’s numerous casual hook-ups. There could be no one to blame for the position he found himself both emotionally and physically but himself. He knew that, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow as he watched the skinny, pale, red-headed and glitter-covered theatre actor place a hand on Charlie’s arm as he looked up at him flirtatiously from beneath his fake eyelashes.

Charlie didn’t seem particularly swayed by whatever he’d said, the offer he’d undoubtedly made, but he smiled just the same, dimpling as he responded with what could only be a cheeky comment that had the man throwing back his head and laughing.  Shaking his head, Charlie gripped his hip to keep the man steady on his stilettos.

Patrick tossed back a shot of vodka and turned to the bartender to order a beer and avoid looking at the pair.

Israel sidled up in a pair of blue jeans and a beat up leather jacket. Ze’d gotten as dressed up as ze cared to – which amounted to barely if at all – as Eddie Ex.  Hir hair hug shaggy and still braided, and Charlie had been so appalled by hir showing up in a pair of beat up Vans that he’d generously donated a pair of his motorcycle boots to the cause.  Hir girlfriend had done considerably better as Columbia, having ordered a costume from the show’s costume designer.  She’d shown up in a full-on regalia of striped short shorts, a glitter brassiere, a gold glittery blazer, and with a matching top hat.

“Stop murdering Hayden with your eyes,” Israel instructed Patrick as ze smoothly ordered a gin and tonic and a cosmopolitan from the bartender.

Patrick gave hir a dry look, and Israel half-shrugged.  “I’m not.”

"Sure,” Israel nodded sagely, turning around with the pair of glasses in hand to follow his eyes around the room.

The viewing was a small, intimate affair with people who worked in the entertainment industry, a handful of university students studying film or theatre arts, and family or friends over the cast in a retro, dilapidated theatre a couple blocks away from Southbank.  The area had raised Aaron’s eyebrows as he’d dropped them off reluctantly, instructing Patrick to take care of their boy before he’d driven off.

Patrick knew the man well enough to know the farthest he’d probably gone had been a block or two down the road for nachos or a kebab on the off chance his worst fears proved correct, and Charlie needed a quick escort home and away.

The cast mingled amongst the audience members, the asshole — _Hayden_ — keeping close to Charlie, nearly always touching him.

In all honesty, Patrick understood the man’s blatant lust no matter how irritated it made him.  Charlie looked absolutely amazing.

He’d given his publicist and manager a big, semi-public ‘fuck you’ by turning up to this event where anyone could take a picture, post it online, and share for all the world to see as Frank-n-Furter.  Subtle not being a part of his vocabulary meant that he’d conned their hair stylist into giving him a curly black wig and charmed the makeup artist, Miriam, into recreating the dramatic eyebrow, cerulean eye shadow, and daring lipstick that Tim Curry had sport in the original movie. His costume was the closest anyone would probably ever come to the original, having been recreated by one of the designers who’d worked on the film’s costuming, an exact replica gloves, sleeveless top, thigh-high fishnet stockings attached to a garter belt, and down to the wild black and white stilettos.

So fabulous and authentic that the actor actually playing Frank-n-Furter had asked if Charlie wanted to switch off and act in a scene.

He’d refused…after a lengthy hesitation.

Israel sipped hir cosmopolitan and smirked when Patrick’s attention drifted back to hir. “Yeah, you’re not pouting…or sulking…or pining.”

“I’m not,” he protested.

“Um-hmm,” ze nodded sagely.  “Eyes open lover-boy, your girlfriend’s coming this way.”  With those words of warning, Israel took off to join hir girlfriend who’d taken up Sienna who had come as very conservative Janet in a room full of glitter brassieres, sparkly bustiers, and dramatic makeup as well as Soren Reid, the singer/songwriter extraordinaire who’d turned up dressed as Brad and kindly toted around Sienna all night to sell the character.

Evelyn had raised their group’s eyebrows first by showing up at all when everyone knew she’d never seen _Rocky Horror Picture Show_ before, the second time by showing up dressed as Christina Aguilera when she’d been in _Burlesque_. Charlie had gaped for a full-on minute until Aaron had thwacked him and startled him back to self-awareness. Israel had just sighed and turned to an absolutely mortified Jazz, but it had been Sienna who’d shaken her head and told Evelyn primly, “You ought to have called or just shown up in jeans and a tee-shirt.”

Patrick didn’t necessarily disagree.

“Hey baby,” Evelyn grinned, wrapping her arms around Patrick’s neck and pressing a kiss firmly to his lips.

“Evie,” Patrick greeted her ambivalently.

Evelyn stole his beer and took a swig as her eyes skirted the room, lingering entirely too long on Charlie.  Patrick stiffened automatically, barely relaxing when they kept moving and stopped again on Mahon – their on-again, off-again cast mate – who’d come as Riff Raff, tucking his long, naturally red locks up under a partial bald cap with long platinum hair dangling from the ends, and Charlie’s sister Poppy, who’d come as Magenta.

Ordinarily, Daphne “Poppy” Beck looked beautiful enough to collect accolades by the dozen. Fashion icon.  International supermodel.  Humanitarian. Award-winning equestrian. Both she and Charlie had inherited their father’s golden surfer boy Aussie looks over their mother’s delicate, British palette.  Like Charlie, Poppy had naturally golden skin, wavy golden hair that she’d recently cut into thick bangs, and an asymmetrical cut that fell just passed her shoulders.

Whoever she’d convinced to turn her into Magenta had gone big, because Patrick knew that the frizzed out auburn mess was all her own locks. She’d also come in a maid’s uniform that was as ill-fitted as Magenta’s and not a short, tight, sexy number that entirely missed the point.  But, then, according to Charlie, Poppy had been the one to drag him to his first _Rocky Horror_ viewing in New York City.

“Who knew Charlie was so popular with the twinks,” Evelyn frowned.

Patrick frowned at her.  “That’s kind of an inappropriate thing to call someone.  He’s a West End actor.  In _Phantom of the Opera_.”

She glared at him out of the corner of her eye, “I know that, Patty. I was just _saying_.  You don’t have to jump on the bandwagon with all your friends and act like I’m the absolute worst.”

“I don’t think that,” Patrick argued.

“You don’t _not_ ,” she insisted.

That time Evelyn had a point that Patrick couldn’t even properly argue with beyond slanting her a frustrated look that she waved away with a tired look and frown.

Running a hand through his hair, Patrick shook his head. “Can we not do this tonight?”

Evelyn turned to him, irritated.  “When are we going to do it, Patrick?  We need to talk about this.”

"We’ve been doing nothing but talking about it for _months_ ,” he complained.

"You mean since Charlie came back from California, don’t you?” Evelyn returned tritely.

“And we’re back to Chaz,” Patrick sighed, taking another sip of his beer. Where did the marijuana go when you needed it?

To keep his cool, Patrick’s eyes followed Charlie as flitted around the room from person to person with a bright smile and an annoying amount of confidence even when in dramatic makeup that would make drag queens jealous and stilettos too high for most women to be comfortable walking around in.

Somewhere between flirting shamelessly with the entire undergrad theatre department of some university and wrapping himself around Mahon to smile brightly at his sister in greeting, he’d left Hayden behind.  Patrick didn’t want to admit to himself how much easier that made him breathe.  Nor did he want to admit how his heart seemed to jump when Charlie’s gaze shifted from his sister to meet Patrick’s, his smile brightening minutely as he turned his attention back to Poppy.

“Patrick!”

He raised his eyebrows and stared at Evelyn balefully as she sighed and ran a hand through her hair, obviously frustrated.

“This is what I mean!  This is why it’s ‘back to Chaz.’”

“Because we’re friends?”

“Because you’re intense!”  Evelyn exclaimed. “You’re all about each other, all the time!  I mean, God, no wonder a bunch of idiotic tweens fetishize about the two of you getting it on together. You literally give them all this material and have no desire or care to stop.”

Patrick rolled his eyes and set his bottle down purposefully. “One, I don’t think that means what you think it means.  Two, most of them aren’t tweens and even if they were it’s none of your – or _my_ – business.  Three, why would I change my behavior with my best friend so that a group of people who have no direct affect on either or our lives stop thinking we’re cute together?  We _are_ cute together.  We’re fucking adorable, and if we were fucking it wouldn’t be a big deal because this is 2015 and who cares?”

“You’re not gay, Patrick.”

“At this rate, if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“And neither is Charlie!”  Evelyn shouted loudly enough that it drew Poppy, Mahon, and Charlie’s attention towards them.  Poppy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Evelyn pointedly, but Charlie only caught Patrick’s eye and quirked an eyebrow, silently asking if he was needed.

Patrick shook his head and grabbed Evelyn’s elbow, towing her away from the crowd and into an empty corridor that led to the toilets.  The last thing he wanted to do was ruin Charlie’s favorite holiday by his girlfriend having a melt down, especially not in front of Poppy.

For all her class, charm, and grace, Patrick had seen that woman dump a whole bottle of £300 red wine over a socialite’s pristine white designer gown for insulting her little brother in her presence.  God only knew what she would do to Evelyn if the wrong words came out of her mouth, witnesses be damned.

“You think _Charlie Beck_ cares if people think he’s gay?”  Patrick deadpanned before laughing incredulously because _really_?

Never mind that Charlie _was_ gay and had no problem telling anyone who wanted to know and would have pranced around the streets draped in only body glitter and a rainbow flag if he thought he could get away with it, but even if he hadn’t been gay, Charlie had never been the type to care.  In private or in public, Charlie had always been blasé about what people thought of him, which Patrick guessed came both from his mothers lackadaisical approach to negativity and his sister’s own struggles to accept herself in the fashion industry and public eye.

The two women dealt with strong criticisms.  Charlie had seen his sister through an eating disorder, body dysmorphia, and more than a few mental breakdowns about her image. His mother had dealt with her post-being-left-for-the-younger-cliché-mistress, the constant fashion industry critiques, and her own mid-life crisis.  Charlie had his own set of personal issues, but he seemed to have decisively determined that what random people thought of his sexuality wasn’t one of them.

He encouraged speculation about his sexuality.

He delighted in discussion about his gender orientation.

The only thing that Charlie had answered when Patrick had asked about his enthusiasm was that at least people weren’t out there pretending heteronormativity was the only thing that existed.

“I think his team cares,” Evelyn remarked.

Stilling, Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on her. She seemed to sense the change in him, but instead of backing down, Evelyn put her hands on her hips and raised her chin defiantly to look down her nose at him.  If she thought he’d be intimidated by that display, then she’d gambled wrong.  He could count on one hand the number of things that he’d back down for, and Charlie had never been on that list.

“Excuse me?”

Evelyn shrugged dismissively.  “His team hates how he hangs all over you, buried that story about him kissing Irial Dorian at a party last year.  And Soren Reid. And wasn’t there another one before that?  All of his relationships are highly publicized even though they don’t have to be.  They instructed him to move out last year until Salem Petrov moved here and started getting papped with him.”  Patrick paused and gaped, shaking his head, taken aback. “You didn’t know that?” Evelyn questioned smugly, “Did you _best friend_ not tell you about that?”

“Enough, Evelyn,” Patrick shook his head, his mind still turning over what she’d said about him being told to move out last year.

“I don’t understand why you’re so determined to keep your laddie bachelor pad with him.  I’m not asking you to stop being friends with him.  I’m asking you to give our relationship a chance.  We have something real, and I want to give us a chance to grow together. That’s really hard when your best friend – who hates me – lives with you.  Why won’t you even consider this?”  Evelyn pushed.

“Charlie needs me.”

Evelyn threw up her hands.  “No, he doesn’t.  He’s a grown man. Don’t you think he wants his own space? He gets enough are that it has to be more of a hassle than not to shuffle his hook-ups around you.”

Whirling his head around, Patrick narrowed his eyes on Evelyn. “Charlie doesn’t bring his hook-ups to _our_ home. Ever.”  Evelyn winced and jerked back, eyebrows furrowing together.

“I don’t get it,” she finally admitted, sounding genuinely defeated. “Why are you two _so_ codependent?  What does Charlie give you that I can’t?”

_You can’t make me fall in love with you._

“Evie,” Patrick started uncertainly, not sure where he wanted to go with that.

_We’re not forever, Evelyn. You don’t know me, Evelyn. I’m sorry I’m a shite boyfriend, Evelyn. I’m sorry I’m not the person you need, Evelyn.  I’m sorry I used you to try to keep myself away from the man I’ve been in love with for two years, Evelyn. This was never gonna work, Evelyn. We don’t have a chance in hell, Evelyn. You’re never going to be Charlie, Evelyn._

None of those things came out because Charlie popped around the corner with flushed cheeks and a wide, dimpled smile.  “There you are!”  He cried cheerfully.

Evelyn crossed her arms and curled in on herself as Patrick’s attention focused on his boy.  A smile automatically splitting across his face as he nodded, “Where else would I be, Chaz?”

Charlie laughed delightedly and came towards him, grabbing his hands and tugging him back towards the theatre.  “Come on then, we’re gonna miss Brad and Janet’s intro!”

“I’m coming,” Patrick said, sparing Evelyn a glance as she ducked her head and discreetly wiped a tear from her eye, waving Patrick off.

He needed to do something before he broke them both.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've never seen Rocky Horror, watch the original before the made-for-tv remake comes out because Tim Curry, that's why. Also go see it at midnight when they act it out along with the actual movie. It's fantastic.


	10. "Love You Goodbye" by One Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2015: What happened in Boston

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** Guess who might happen to be in Boston over xmas hols?

**Salem:** My mother?

**Charlie:** No shit! Is she though?

**Salem:** Lolz no! She’s working clear through.

**Salem:** Think she’ll be up here over NYE though

**Salem:** She’s being pouty because I’m staying over holidays.

**Charlie:** You poor baby.

**Salem:** I definitely smell sarcasm.

**Salem:** Where are you staying?

**Charlie:** Where are YOU staying? Because I’ve got a room at the Boston Harbor Hotel

**Salem:** Is that your way of asking for a slumber party, Chaz?

**Charlie:** Netfleix and chill.

**Salem:** I expect dinner.

**Charlie:** Of course babe :)

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Mum:** Will I see you for xmas?

**Patrick:** Yes mum.

**Mum:** Bringing a guest? Anyone special?

**Patrick:** No mum!

**Mum:** What about that nice boy you live with? Rory says he’s quite the cutie

**Mum:** Maybe I could set him up with your cousin.

**Patrick:** Ra-Ra needs a shrink not a famous boyfriend.

**Mum:** Rude!

**Patrick:** Chaz is going to America to visit a friend and his sister

**Mum:** Poo I’d love to meet him.

**Mum:** No big deal. Will you be back in time for midnight mass?

**Patrick:** Of course mum.

**Patrick:** And Maggie?

**Mum:** I haven’t heard a word from your sister

**Patrick:** Sorry.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Off to America to see my favorite monster @Salem_Daiki

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck I’m offended what am I then?

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@StPatty_ @CharlieBeck don’t even worry he’s just being ridiculous :P

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

I resent that very much sir!

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Xavier:** You didn’t clear this trip with Luka and me

**Charlie:** That’s because I didn’t want to hear what you had to say about it.

**Charlie:** I’d rather not hear from you again until after the hols. Thanks.

* * *

 

Charlie ran his fingers over the sheer, shimmery fabric in his hands as he felt someone drop down to sit beside him on the chilly tiled floor of Salem’s dorm room.  They’d crashed there previous night due to getting slightly tipsy and hopping on the first T-train they came across after stumbling out of the French bistro in Back Bay as they kicked out the last of guests to reclaim a few precious hours at home on Christmas Eve.  It had dropped them closer to MIT than to Charlie’s hotel, and they had been too out of it to try and maneuver the train system on Christmas Eve when everything was shutting down.

Instead, they’d grabbed pints of Ben and Jerry’s and huddled up in Salem’s tiny dorm room under the soft, artificial light of the Christmas tree that Tasha had come into town to set up just after Thanksgiving.  If that had been all that had happened, Charlie might feel better about the whole thing, but at least Salem didn’t seem to upset as he settled beside Charlie on the floor and handed him a cup of his tea.

Salem looked over at him from beneath his red and green hair, tips dyed white, as he rested his cheek on his folded legs.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas,” Charlie corrected, shaking his head. “Americans are so weird.”

“This from the country that does Sunday Roasts and actually thinks mild salt content will make people fat.”

“You’re on about the salt again, are you?”  Charlie scoffed as his eyes rested on Salem who’d pulled on a hideous Christmas jumper over Grinch fleece sleep pants sometime between waking up to the ridiculously shrill sound of Christmas carols coming from the radio they’d never shut off the night before and making their tea in the dorm common room.  “You’ve never even been to England.”

“Don’t need to,” Salem retorted triumphantly.  “I trust my RA’s judgement sufficiently.”

“And your RA is British?”

“Just came back from a semester abroad.  Can’t trust a Brit to tell the truth about the tastelessness of their food. How would you know the difference? I need an expert.”

Charlie shook his head and laughed as he nudged Salem with his arm. His smile dropped as his fingers skimmed over the fabric that he felt safe in assuming Poppy had recommended. He turned to Salem. “You shouldn’t spend so much money on me.”

Salem huffed and rolled his eyes, “Stop being an idiot.”

“Salem…”

“Charlie…” he replied in the same tone, raising his eyebrows and offering Charlie a soft smile.  “It’s not a big deal, Chaz.”

“They don’t want me wearing stuff like this anyway,” Charlie admitted.

“Fuck them,” Salem told Charlie, forthright and unyielding. He turned his head to look at his best friend, ready to argue the point, but Salem shook his head and continued on. “No, Chaz, I’m serious. It’s bad enough they’ve been closeting you since you were old enough to know what that meant, don’t let them take this away from you too.”

“My style _is_ posh London gay, though,” he told Salem with a weak shrug and uncomfortable smile.

Salem grimaced but there was an anger in the back of his eyes. He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Who gives a fuck? I mean beside Xavier and Luka, which, fuck them honestly.”

“My father.”

“Your father’s an absolute tool,” Salem waved a hand dismissively, and Charlie bit back a laugh but nodded his head in agreement.  “You’ve sacrificed enough for them to be happy and stick to your appearance clause that you don’t need to give them this side of yourself too.  Your mother’s an acclaimed fashion designer.  Just tell them you’re hugely into fashion or that your sister helps you or…I don’t know. Just don’t let them take away your see-through women’s blouses and thousand dollar heeled boots.”

“You think so?”  Charlie asked softly.

“I think if I start seeing you walk around in straight legged Levi denim with t-shirts, I might have to kidnap you and stage an intervention.”

They laughed, falling silent as the soft Christmas music filled the room. A room devoid any of the electric tension that had filled it when he’d walked through the door almost a week ago for the first time since they’d broken up in April. Taking a sip of his tea, Charlie turned to Salem and watched his profile for a moment, tapping the jade and diamond ring on his right hand against the porcelain of the mug.

Salem turned to him.  “Yes, we’re gonna talk about it.”

“We should have a week ago,” Charlie pointed out.  Salem nodded and took a sip of his coffee, his eyes remaining locked on Charlie who swallowed and tossed his hair out of his eyes. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“I know,” Salem confessed without any other inflection. Charlie sighed with frustration, and Salem put down his cup and stared at him.  “What else do you expect me to say about it, Chaz? We shouldn’t have spent this whole week fucking when you’re ‘not dating’ that guy in London, are half in love with your roommate and one-time drunken hook-up, and I’m technically dating Michael. You don’t need to tell me that, Charlie.”

Reaching out, Salem wiped the tears from Charlie’s cheeks that he hadn’t even noticed were falling.  He smiled softly at him while Charlie laughed brokenly and shook his head with a wan smile. “I’m sorry.”

“This is not only your fault,” Salem told him.  “Don’t apologize.”

“Why did we do this?  I had no intention of doing this when I came here,” Charlie asked, angrily swiping away the tears leaking from his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Salem shrugged.  “And it doesn’t really matter.  We did it, it’s done.”

“God, I’m…”

“Stop,” Salem cut him off firmly with a stern expression on his face before he wrapped an arm around Charlie and tugged him into a hug. “I love you.”

"I love you too,” Charlie said as he clung onto him, “but we can’t…I mean I…it’s…you don’t understand, Salem.”

“Chaz,” Salem calmed him down.  “You don’t need to apologize for ending us or for this happening or for anything. You don’t ever need to apologize to me. That is not who we are. Whatever happened, happened. We’ll move forward from here the way we always do, and you can go back to London and pine away helplessly for the Irishman you insist is both straight and has a low enough alcohol tolerance to completely blackout and lose his memory of your time screwing each other despite him only having smoked half a joint and drinking a beer.”

Charlie elbowed him, “You’re just being mean now.”

“Maybe a little,” Salem admitted with a wry grin.  “I know you won’t tell me why you _really_ broke up with me.”  Charlie tensed, and Salem grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “And that’s fine. I’m sure you did what you thought was best.”

Charlie coloured but didn’t answer.

He’d never considered the possibility that Salem had known the day he’d knocked on the door to his dorm with a hangdog look and melancholy aura to say that he didn’t think the long distance relationship thing was for him and could they “please for the love of God” stay friend that he hadn’t been telling the truth.  In hindsight, he ought to have realized.  Salem had known him entirely too well from the moment Charlie had knocked into him outside of 7-11 and spilled the entirety of his extra large cherry Slushie on him that he’d never be able to hide anything.

Not that he hadn’t tried.

Salem had opened the door and taken one look at Charlie’s face before he’d pulled him inside and wrapped him in a tight hug, whispering in his ear that he could tell him anything.  So Charlie had choked out a poorly formulated lie that he had less intention in its delivery than it had in its inception – quite a feat, he thought – and Salem had accepted it without question.  Instead, he’d spent the rest of the time holding Charlie as _he’d_ cried on Salem’s shoulder and assured Charlie he wasn’t going anywhere, that of course they’d always be friends.

Then Charlie had come back from London eight months later, taken one look at him in an oversized, gaudy Christmas jumper and his usual ripped up jeans despite the arctic temperatures, and hadn’t been able to keep himself from sticking his tongue down Salem’s throat.  And he hadn’t let up, not even after briefly meeting the guy Salem was dating who’d greeted him amicably as Salem had packed a duffel bag and handed Charlie a box with instructions to “protect it like your fucking child, Chaz,” leaving him awkwardly standing in the doorway.

Snogging amidst that much sexual tension had quickly given way to sex.

Sexual tension that had blessedly dissipated sometime in the wee hours of the morning when Charlie had been curled up naked under the quilt, his head on Salem’s tattooed chest, and his eyes on the warm glow emanating from the fairy lights strung up on the fake tree.

“We’re fine, Charlie,” Salem interrupted Charlie’s thoughts, and he pursed his lips and shook his head.  Salem insisted. “We _are_. We’re _better_ now than we were before.  And you know it, because stifling sexual tension is poison to a friendship.”

Charlie stiffened and turned to Salem whose lips turned up into a wicked smirk. “Are we going to talk about Patrick now?”

“Ugh, stop,” Charlie moaned, throwing the blanket over his head and hiding.

Salem laughed, “No!  Can’t now! I can’t believe you believe this fool!”

Charlie peeked his head out from beneath the blanket, blushing, “I…”

A loud banging came from the door.

Charlie and Salem glanced at each other in surprise.

“Expecting someone?”

“Shouldn’t be,” Salem answered, getting to his feet.  The banging stopped, and Salem paused with his hand on the knob, glancing back at Charlie who watched him with wide eyes and a curious expression.

As far as Charlie knew, all of Salem’s project partners had agreed to spend the week work free and meet up post Christmas Day to finish working on their term project.  Salem was supposed to be at Charlie’s hotel anyway, which made this even weirder. No one who could want Salem would have come looking for him at his dorm room, not even his mother or her boyfriend.

They’d both Skyped Damien and Tasha from Charlie’s hotel two days earlier and received knowing but respectfully withdrawn looks from Tasha. Damien had either been oblivious or considerably better at pretending than his girlfriend.

“Maybe it was mistake…” Charlie started, trailing off and raising his eyebrows as it started up again with considerably more force.

“Salem! Open up!  I know you’re in there!”

“The fuck…” Salem started, opening the door to reveal Michael standing in the doorway with red eyes and a haggard look.

Charlie knew instinctually what this was about.

“Is it true?”

“Michael,” Salem started carefully.

“Is. It. True. Salem?  I don’t want an excuse from you, I want a fucking answer,” Michael hissed at him.

Salem fell silent, and Charlie could see him thinking over how to respond as he rocked back on his heels.  Charlie eyes looked from Salem to the furious, devastated man in his doorway, wordlessly pleading for a no.

“How did you even find out?”  Salem finally decided on, wincing the minute the words were out of his mouth.

“Salem,” Charlie hissed.  He looked back down at Charlie and grimaced, recognizing that completely unsympathetic faux pas that had just passed his lips.  Idiot.

“You’re still here?”  Michael demanded furiously, turning to Salem and repeating with growing anger: “He’s still here?”

“He’s my best friend.”  Salem paused and winced again.  Charlie shook his head and got to his feet to stand beside Salem.

How to do this?

Charlie had never been in this position before despite what the press had to say. ‘Cheating’ on his PR dates with other PR dates all of whom knew what was coming and understood the position everybody else was in wasn’t the same as him having sex with someone else’s boyfriend. He didn’t know what to do here, what to say, because saying sorry wouldn’t be enough to erase what they’d done.

Great that it wouldn’t affect their friendship beyond settling the lingering sexual tension between them, but how did he tell someone ‘sorry for fucking your boyfriend but I honestly hadn’t even thought about you, wasn’t intentional?’

“Yeah, your ‘best friend.’  People don’t fuck their best friends, Salem!”

“We used to date,” Salem admitted reluctantly.

Charlie nearly gaped at him, because despite how harshly and deeply closeted he was, Charlie had figured Salem had told Michael that and certainly had begrudged him that at all.  He’d worked long and hard, sat through hours of negotiations and put up with publicly stunting with some aspiring Canadian model for _months_ so that Charlie didn’t have to sign an NDA.  He silently thanked any and every deity anyone had ever worshipped for his years and years of acting because that alone allowed him to keep a straight face and his mouth shut from turning to Salem and asking with sheer disbelief, “You didn’t tell him that?!”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Michael snapped.  “You let me believe that some acclaimed actor always in the papers for his latest female conquest or charming interviewers on the red carpet or getting papped sticking his tongue down the throats of models at fashion shows was your platonic bestie so I felt fine about you staying in his hotel over Christmas break!  How could you…did you plan this the whole time?”

“Of course not,” Salem started.  “We just…” He shrugged.

“You just what?  You just met up with the ex you’re clearly still into and spent week fucking him?”

Salem scratched the back of his neck and glared at the ceiling. “Well, when you say it like that it sounds kind of bad.”

“Does it?”  Michael snapped viciously.

Salem winced, and Charlie sighed.  “Salem you’re the worst at adult conversations.”

“Apparently.”

“God, you two!  How could I have not known?”  Michael’s eyes darted between them, and Charlie scowled.

“It’s not exactly publicized,” Charlie murmured, drawing Michael’s irate gaze.

“You _met_ me. Greeted me.  Talked to me, and then went and fucked my boyfriend?”

Charlie quickly gave Salem a hard look to shut up before he could open his trap and admit that they’d already exchanged blowjobs by the time they’d made their way from the airport to the dorm to pick up Salem’s stuff. Michael had every reason to be upset, and Salem wasn’t helping the situation by regressing into a child with a big mouth and no filter.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_?”

“This got entirely out of hand, and we shouldn’t have done it but I don’t know what to say to you.  Nothing’s going to make this better, and we can’t take it back.”

Michael stared at him for a moment in disbelief while Salem just made a face and shook his head.  Okay, maybe neither one of them were any good at this.  And maybe Charlie should stick to anonymous hook-ups for the foreseeable future to save himself all this considerable drama.

Laughing humorlessly, harshly, Michael took a step towards Charlie who, for all his faults and all his mistakes, wouldn’t take a step back just because someone wanted to get into his face.  Deserved or not, he wasn’t about to step back.  “You elitist, arrogant homewrecker.”

Charlie winced and swallowed, the words hitting him hard.

“Michael, enough,” Salem said flatly.

“No, no, that’s exactly what he is.  Some hyped up closeted celebrity who just chooses when he wants to walk in and of your life and bed, never mind the consequences to anyone else like some spoiled, selfish—”

“Michael,” Salem snapped.

Charlie saw the slap before it came, closing his eyes.  He heard the sharp crack but didn’t feel the burn.

His eyes opened to find Salem standing between them, his cheek turning red and a handprint stark against his olive skin.  Everyone froze, the room holding its breath before Charlie moved. He pulled Salem back and turned him to face Charlie, cupping his face with one hand and gingerly prodding the red mark with the other.  Salem winced while Michael watched them, wide-eyed and tears welling.  Charlie ignored him.

“It’s not that bad, Chaz.”

“It needs ice.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael muttered.

Charlie looked at him once, coldly before he turned back to Salem. “Pack what you need, we’re going back to my hotel.  Don’t argue with me.”

Salem sighed and nodded while Charlie watched Michael hesitate in the doorway before turning tail and running.  Shaking his head, Charlie turned to Salem.

“Sorry for ruining your relationship,” Charlie said.

“I thought we talked about apologies,” Salem replied lightly. “I need to call my mom.”

“Do it from the car.”

“I thought this lord and master of the world thing would stop when we stopped dating,” Salem complained jokingly.

Charlie laughed and held the door open for Salem, comfortable and content beside him without the lingering remnants of sex between them. “Think again, Kostya. That’s never going away.’

Salem hip-checked him with a smile, and Charlie felt himself relax. _Best friends_ , yeah, they could do that.  Now, he just wasn’t sure if he and _Patrick_ could, because those feelings for Salem that had clung tight weren’t an issue anymore, but the ones he’d ignored out of a misplaced sense of betrayal remained stronger than ever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning to write this scene since I finished Salem's cheating rant in Since We're Being Honest. I knew I was lying about how serious Charlie and Salem had been and their breakup since I wrote about it the first time, but I didn't realize how much drama and shit they had in their past until I started writing this.
> 
> On the other hand: if you thought Salem being bad with forthcoming honesty and relationship conversation was a one-off...nope. And him being protective of Charlie is just adorable. They're my favorite friendship in this series, quite honestly. It's just too cute. Happy Monday! I am halfway through writing this book...almost. And I'm still procrastinating on my actual uni assignments, which has actually turned into some solid output for this book. If only I could just turn this in instead of a case study on publishing. Ugh.
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, this scene takes place literally about six months before Salem meets Bailey.


	11. "Blank Space" by Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas in Cork

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

We know who you really are #prayers #love #respect

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patty:** R u ok?

 **Charlie:** They can’t keep him rite? My best friend isnt going to prison rite?

 **Patty:** Breathe Chaz.

 **Charlie:** I cant.

 **Patty:** He’ll be fine. Ok?

 **Charlie:** Yeah?

 **Patty:** Come home.

 **Charlie:** I cant. Tasha’s here. I can’t leave her here alone.

 **Patty:** I’ll be there in 10, k?

 **Charlie:** xx

 

**Daiki Company CEO implicated in international hacking alongside Arsenal footballer**

This passed Thursday found The Daiki Company CEO, Daiki Kimura-Petrov, being arrested by Interpol on suspicion of several counts of international hacking and cyber crimes.  The young, dynamic entrepreneur was accused of being involved with Anonymous as notorious hacktivist known as either Salem in the US or the Ghost King in Europe.  The charges, however, were dropped after the interrogation of Arsenal footballer, Arthur Bailey, when he arrived at the Interpol headquarters in Paris the same evening accompanied by up-and-coming publicist, Harry Benton-Sterling, and Alexander Sullivan, a superstar barrister from international firm Thompson & Hardwicke. While Arsenal’s made no comment on their star player’s involvement in the case, but the Daiki’s Company issued a statement the day after Kimura-Petrov’s release: “These unfortunate allegations have no bearing on the continued progress of the company.  Daiki’s personal affairs are entirely separate from his business’s, though he’s open to assisting in any official investigation conducted by Interpol’. The investigation is ongoing.

 

**Creature’s Ani (@Wheres_ChazzaUS)**

@CharlieBeck spending xmas filming #PaintedManMovie in NZ and AZ !!!!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Home for the holidays! Feels great to be back in Ireland again.

 

**Charlie Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ you mean back to slaggy pubs?

 

**Patrick Gallgher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck oi! Some of us enjoy a good Sunday roast, whiskey, and xmas at home when theyre rejected on xmas!!!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ I’m working!!!!!!!!!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck likely story…I’ll just be over here alone and missing you #happychristmas

* * *

 

The Gallagher family had stereotypical Irish Catholic stamped all over them.  From the overabundance of crucifixes hanging in every room of their home and a simple silver cross around each family member’s neck, to the large family that gathered in one house over the holidays even though they barely fit, to the tasteful yet plentiful festive décor that always included at least three nativities.

“You know what would be nice, Kennedy?”  Patrick looked up from where he’d been sitting the kitchen table in his grandparent’s house, sketching while his mother baked, to see his wispy haired grandmother her make her way in.  Kennedy looked over at her mother with a wry look on her face. Norah Gallagher crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, “If your son ever came home for Christmas.”

Kennedy stifled a laugh as her dark green eyes went to Patrick. Leaning back and resting his palms on the table, Patrick raised his eyebrows and stared at the woman with amusement. “Good evening to you too, Gran.”

"Oh,” his grandmother said as she turned to him.  “You’re here.”

“Patty’s been here for _days_ , mam,” Kennedy interrupted with a smile.

“Has he?”  Norah narrowed his eyes on Patrick who ducked his head and flinched, already anticipating what was coming. “Perhaps I haven’t noticed because he’s been holing himself up to paint.”

“Sketching,” Patrick corrected.

“Did I ask, Patrick Donovan?”

“I have a deadline,” he insisted, pointing down at the sketches with a wide-eyed look.

His grandmother didn’t seem impressed, and Patrick sighed, closing his sketchbook and hopping up from his stool.  Patrick pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek as he walked out of the room, scrunching up his nose at his grandmother and quickly dancing out of the way as she swatted at him.

If people wondered where he’d gone ahead and gotten the wherewithal to think acting was a solid career move, it had come from his grandmother.

Norah Gallagher had started her life as a West End theatre actress that left the stage to become a mother and theatre arts teacher at a university when she’d met his grandfather, Murphy.  According to all the Gallagher children, the pair had met when she’d come home to visit her own mother along the road when he’d been riding some gallant black Friesian across the field.  Every time Murphy heard that story, he’d snort and pull the youngest and naivest in the family aside to tell them straight: “I met Norah when she threw a hissy fit over apricots in the supermarket.  Help me Lord, I knew I was in trouble from the moment she noticed me watching her from the door to the stockroom and demanded I assist.”

Murphy had managed that supermarket, now he owned Cork’s favorite Lidl. He also owned a single Friesian that he boarded up the road in the neighbor’s stables; it had been a Christmas gift to Norah the year their youngest child had finally married and had told their first child told the story.  His grandmother hadn’t stopped laughing for days.

His family was entirely too large for him to feel comfortable rooming with them all over the entirety of Christmas break so instead of arriving right after filming ended, he’d arrived the day before Christmas Eve, earning a stern lecture from his grandmother, a warning look from his mother, and amusement and understanding from his stepfather, Rory Doherty, who’d spent in as many days texting him about his family’s antics.

It hadn’t been lonely at home, though, not with Snow whining mournfully after Charlie – in a display Patrick completely understood and could relate to – and Israel and Jazz crashing with him for a couple days before they flew out to New York to spend the holiday with the Israel family in Brooklyn. Since then, he’d Skyped everyday with Charlie, more than a couple times with Michi who’d sent over the first draft of the next volume of their manga series, and only twice with Evelyn who’d asked pointedly when she’d ever get to meet his family after introducing him to hers last year.

Patrick had been avoiding her ever since, because he didn’t want to say ‘probably never’ and get into another fight over the holidays.

“Hiding from the clan?”  A voice asked wryly.

He turned to find his cousin Shannon perched on the railing of the staircase with a glass of undoubtedly spiked coffee in her hand.

Shannon looked the least like any of the family, all of whom had been graced with porcelain skin and dark hair, eye colors ranging from dark brown to dark green with nothing in between.  No, she’d inherited her mother’s looks: fiery red curls, shocking green eyes, and a curvaceous figure as opposed to a lean one.  She hated it, looking like the outcast she’d felt she always was, but she’d always been their grandparents’ favorite even if they hadn’t been too happy about her conception when their youngest child, Rowan, had knocked up her mother, Carrigan, when Carrie was sixteen and Rowan eighteen.

“Just gran,” Patrick insisted.  “You?”

Shannon shrugged, “My stepmonster.”

“Ah.”

 _That_ , Patrick understood. In terms of Rowan’s wife, Kelly, Patrick liked the Welsh woman he’d met working at some fancy firm in Manchester well enough.  He thought she was sweet. The problem, of course, came from her arctic reception to Shannon.  It wasn’t that Kelly disliked her; she just didn’t believe Shannon was technically a part of the family as she’d been born to her husband’s ex-girlfriend from his first month at university.  Kelly was all about nuclear family units, and the wayward, wild child of her husband’s out-of-wedlock ex-affairs didn’t factor in.

Kelly made Patrick realize how much he’d lucked out with getting Rory as a stepfather. A literature professor that his mother had met through her older sister, Kathleen, he didn’t want any children and loved Patrick, more like a friend or brother than a father. By the time he’d come into Patrick’s life, at eighteen, Patrick was already walking out the door; they got on well enough, though.

"Ignore Kelly,” the first of the twins spoke.

“Yeah, we’d much rather hear about Patrick,” came the second.

“When he’s going to introduce us to that woman of his.”

They waggled their eyebrows, and Shannon pursed her lips and turned to Patrick expectantly.

‘The Twins’ weren’t actually twins.  They were cousins.  Sixteen-year-old boys born to Patrick’s Aunt Kathleen and her husband, Brian, and his other aunt, Irene, and her husband Cody.  They’d been inseparable since they’d been mewling, squalling toddlers who’d wrecked everything they’d put their meaty little hands on. They also looked ridiculously alike with the same complexion, hair color, cut, and style, and the same brown eyes. The only difference between them to tell Brian Ahearne apart from Adam Hughes was the freckles across the bridge of Brian’s nose.

Patrick’s gaze moved between the trio, and he shook his head. “Never.”

“Oh, come on!”  Adam and Brian exclaimed.

“Why not?”  Shannon asked, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him.  “Don’t think your sophisticated English lady will like your roughshod Irish family?”

Frankly, Evelyn would love them just because of the fact that Patrick had introduced them after she’d been asking for months, but he had no intention of sharing things like that with his big-mouthed family members. He was lucky that none of them save Kathleen’s eldest son, David, knew anything about his sexuality as they undoubtedly would have exposed it, purposefully or not, by now. As it was, most of the heat from his family’s social media came from when Shannon posted racy pictures of her nineteen-year-old self on Instagram and Snapchat.  Charlie had liked one and kindly defended her questionable choices by saying it was ‘her body’ and she was ‘of age’ so it was no one else’s business what she chose to do or share with the world.

Shannon had called him crying with thanks while Uncle Rowan had hovered in the back of the Skype chat, annoyed and dismayed.

“It’s because he’s in _lurve_ with that best mate of his, innit?”  A fourth person inquired coyly.

David’s younger sister, Brian’s elder sister, and Kathleen’s middle child, Norah – nicknamed Ra-Ra and unapologetically named after their grandmother – came up behind Patrick with a wide grin.

Where Shannon had Marilyn Monroe curves and sexiness that she oozed without considerable effort, Ra-Ra was much more of a minx. She put considerable effort into trying to be the sexiest person in the room and generally succeeded. At twenty and studying fashion styling at university, Ra-Ra had been trying to break into the fashion industry longer than Patrick thought she’d been alive most days. Interestingly, she refused to ask Patrick for help, and he’d, in turn, had to dissuade Charlie from getting involved.

It was honestly only a matter of time before Charlie sent Poppy or his mother in to just happen upon her during an open call, but as long as Patrick could play innocent, he’d let it go.

Ra-Ra had dazzling hazel eyes and dyed blonde ringlets that fell to her shoulders, teased out and fabulous.  Even in a pair of leggings and a flannel t-shirt, Ra-Ra looked flawless. She wasn’t a bitch either, which had most of the family hopelessly endeared towards her.  Patrick knew better; she’d been his first playmate when he’d been a toddler.

He loved his cousin, but she could be an absolute cunt.

“No!” Shannon squealed excitedly.

Ra-Ra nodded sagely as she looped her arm through Patrick’s. “David says hello, by the way.”

“You saw him?”

“Last week,” Ra-Ra said in a soft voice.  “I try to visit him a couple times a month.”

“Can we back up a second?”  Brian interrupted, holding up his hands; Adam finished, “You’re in love with your best mate? Charlie?  Best actor of our generation probably, Charlie? _That_ Charlie?”

“I’m not,” Patrick insisted.

Shannon’s eyebrows rose, and Ra-Ra rolled her eyes, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “He _is_.”

“I didn’t know you were gay,” Brian mused.

“That’s because I’m not,” Patrick started.

Adam finished for him, elbowing Brian in the side, “There’s more than straight and gay, you know, Bri.”

“Is there?”

Adam heaved a long-suffering sigh, and Shannon watched them, bemused, sipping her coffee.  Adam recited dutifully: “Homosexual, heterosexual, pansexual, asexual, demisexual, bisexual, gray-asexual, and those are only _sexualities_. It gets a little more involved when you look at romantic orientation and gender orientation…”

“Are you still speaking English?”  Brian frowned.

Ra-Ra cocked her head and stared at Adam, “I didn’t know they taught gender studies in college.”

“Can’t I just be well-informed,” Adam blushed.

Patrick recognized that look on his cousin’s face; they’d have to have a talk soon.  Besides, Adam knew entirely too much about sexualities and orientations to just have collected a passing interest via Tumblr.  That was someone who wondered, wanted answers, wanted _possibilities_ at the very least.

Shannon crooked an eyebrow over the rim of her mug.  “Nobody’s _that_ well informed without a reason.  Also, you forgot transsexual.”

Adam opened him mouth to respond, closed it, and nodded as he shrugged one shoulder, accepting that.  Brian glanced between the two of them before turning back to Patrick who waited without sighing. He counted that as an accomplishment. He _really_ didn’t want to have this conversation.  “Okay, Patty, but are you in love with him?”

Ra-Ra nodded her head, and Patrick glared at her.  “Keep going, _Norah_ , and see if I actually give you your Christmas present from Chaz.”

She froze and grimaced, “Goddamnit, Patrick!”

“Language!” They heard their grandparents call out simultaneously from the family room.  Everyone winced as one and lowered their voice.

“You’re a sadist,” Ra-Ra snapped before pursing her lips and hedging, “but do you know what he got me?”

“Something too expensive, I’m sure.”

Charlie had a tendency to go overboard with Christmas presents to Patrick’s family.  Family he’d only ever met in passing or over the web.  Ra-Ra, case in point, he’d been introduced to when he’d answered Patrick’s phone at a party while he’d been trying to concentrate at a tough drinking game. They had spent the next three hours talking about fashion and exchanging ideas for her upcoming styling project and hadn’t really stopped talking since then.

Patrick wanted to be upset but always found himself hopelessly charmed instead.

“Is Charlie even gay?” Brian asked.

“Oh my God,” Patrick moaned as Ra-Ra grinned wickedly. “Are we _still_ talking about this?

“What did I just say?”  Adam snapped at Brian, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows judgmentally.

Brian sighed, “Fine.  Is Charlie Beck even something on the long list that doesn’t qualify as straight?” He turned to Adam, “Better?”

“Marginally.”

Patrick held up his hands and shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m not dating Charlie.”

“We know, you’re dating Evelyn Merritt who we’ve never met, spoken to, or received cards and presents from for holidays and birthdays,” Shannon pointed out unhelpfully.

Charlie, it seemed, was more entwined with his family than he’d thought. He was sending his cousin’s _birthday cards_? He could only imagine what sort of shit Charlie sent David behind bars, especially when _that_ greatly altered story had come with tears and a wave of sympathy for his poor cousin.  _His poor cousin who is in the mob_ , but whatever.

“Stop harassing your cousin,” their grandfather Murphy said from the doorway, surprising all of them.  He leaned too much weight on his cane as his rheumy eyes peered at them over the thin wire rim of his glasses.  “Your grandmother’s ready to start serving the roast so I’d suggest you all get your little butts moving, don’t you?”  They all grumbled but quickly complied, no one wanting to be the unfortunate soul who got scolded for making the food cold while everyone waited for them.

Patrick had barely managed to slip passed when his grandfather caught his wrist and tugged him back, letting his cane tumble to the floor forgotten. Okay, maybe his acting capabilities had come from both sides of the family tree.

“Granddad,” Patrick said weakly.

Murphy only hummed thoughtfully and nodded his head, tucking his arm through Patrick’s and strolling lazily towards the dining room where he could hear the chatter and carols spilling out.  “Patty, dear boy,” he started.  “I’m glad you came home for Christmas.”

Patrick felt himself breathe again, slightly, the tension he’d forced himself not to acknowledge leaving.  He could only imagine what Murphy had heard, and while the younger portion of his family might be willing to have discussions about sexuality, Patrick had seen enough of his staunchly Catholic family’s take on gay marriage equality growing up to know better than to try his luck there.  He _wasn’t_ dating Charlie, but he didn’t need them to think he was.

“Where is that lovely friend of yours, Charlie?”

Patrick cleared his throat nervously, “New Zealand.  Filming part of a movie.”

Murphy clucked his tongue.  “You should have invited him here.  Christmas is a time to spend with family.”

“His mother and sister flew out to spend it with him,” Patrick said, avoiding the ‘because his father was coming into town with his trophy wife’ discussion. Murphy didn’t need to know _everything_.

Nodding sagely, Murphy asked politely, “And how’s that girlfriend of yours? Evangeline, isn’t it?”

Patrick rolled his eyes, “Evelyn.”  He knew that.

Murphy nodded, “Evelyn, right.”  Stopping abruptly just before the dining room entrance, Murphy turned to Patrick and gripped his hands tightly.  Patrick blinked, startled by his grandfather.  “Did you know that your…Charlie sent your grandmother and I new china and Christmas decoration this year after your uncle’s psychotic rugrats threw hers across the room last year?”

Patrick couldn’t decide whether to be amused by his grandfather’s description of Rowan’s five and three year old daughter and son, Moira and Murphy, or shocked at how thoughtful his best friend was.  It had completely slipped Patrick’s mind, everything that had happened last year, and yet _Charlie_ had remembered in enough time to get new and doubtlessly expensive Christmas decorations to them before the family invaded.  He shook his head, surprised, warmed, and absolutely taken aback by the man he loved in the best of ways.

His grandfather went on, taking his incredulous headshake as an answer. “No one expects things to stay the same forever.  That has never been how the world works, Patty.  You’re allowed to be whoever you are and fuck whatever anyone else has to say about it, yes?”

“Um…” Patrick frowned at his grandfather, shaking his head in mild confusion.

Sighing, Murphy patted his cheek.  “Your…friend phoned for you, by the way, your mother tells me. You should bring him around more. Delightful boy, yes?”

“Um…” he vaguely thought he understood, but he couldn’t be, right?

Shaking his head, Murphy threw up his hands and went into the dining room, calling back over his shoulder.  “This family’s so slow!  How much clearer can I be?! Happy Christmas! Get in here, Patty!”

Frowning, Patrick paused before going into pull out his mobile phone, looking down at the message Charlie had sent him of himself, Poppy, and Libby smiling on the beach in swimsuits and oversized Christmas jumpers.

 **Charlie:** Happy Christmas Pattycake! I miss you <3

Smiling, Patrick thumbed out a message before going into the dining room and dropping into the empty seat between Rory and his mother.

 **Patrick:** Its only xmas eve here heathen! Happy xmas sunshine! Miss u more .x

 


	12. "Can't Sleep Love" by Pentatonix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A breakfast of the sexually repressed

**Charlie Beck brings in the New Year with a bang!**

Young _Ethereal_ actor, Charlie Beck, spent much of the holidays filming in Arizona and New Zealand. He brought in the New Year with his sister at a club in Auckland and reportedly got cozy with Australian actress, Barbara Rochester, whose starring in upcoming movie _The Painted Man_ where Charlie made a guest appearance. The pair was pictured dancing close together and sharing a New Year’s Eve kiss before leaving the club together. The following day Barbara posted a photo of the actor in his dressing gown on the balcony of her hotel playing a card game with her over breakfast. Is this one relationship that’s going to last or just another girl in a long line of flings?

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@OfficiallyEvelyn)**

Bringing in the New Year with my bae @StPatty_ and my bestie @SightsOnSienna

 

**Text message to Chaz**

**Patrick:** I miss uuuuu when r u back?

 **Chaz:** Sooooooon pattycake <3

 **Patrick:** Chazzzaaaaa!

 **Chaz:** Soon lover ;)

 **Patrick:** I will call Sadie! And Salem!

 **Chaz:** She’ll never squeal!

 **Patrick:** Ur full of shit!!!!!

 

**Interview with Hollis and Charlie**

**Interviewer:** Let’s talk about the mid-series finale.

 **Hollis:** Let’s not!

 **Charlie:** ( _nods_ ) It _was_ pretty upsetting.

 **Hollis:** I got rejected on Christmas!

 **Interviewer:** It was a surprising turn of events.  I’m angry with you, Charlie. I distinctly remember being promised a positive outcome for these two.

 **Charlie:** Not my fault! I definitely ship them. I was told everything would turn out okay. I was lied to.

 **Hollis:** You rejected me!

 **Charlie:** And you turned into a psychotic, blood-addicted sociopath so…( _shrugs_ ) besides, I was trying to save someone.

 **Interviewer:** Seeing Cadeyrn turn on Brody – not matter the reason – and Brody give into her bloodthirst was a huge surprise. Where are we going to be seeing them in the second half of the series?

 **Hollis:** Totally different places than before. They’ve sort of flip-flopped roles, haven’t they? Cadeyrn’s always been ambiguous enough not to be seen as trustworthy until he breaks Brody’s heart to save one of her best friends, and Brody gave into that bloodthirst and killed someone to absorb their power. Not just _someone_ someone close to this group.

 **Charlie:** It definitely puts us into strange waters. We’ve never been here before so we’ll have to see how it goes.

 **Interviewer:** Any chance for Cadeyrn and Brody reuniting?

 **Charlie:** They have issues but, honestly, I wouldn’t count them out.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

My love’s back!!!!! @CharlieBeck

* * *

Charlie padded into the kitchen and rubbed his bleary eyes with the back of his hand, following the smell of sausage and eggs never stopping even to say hello to Snow who perked up at the sight of him. He plowed straight into Patrick who stood at the stove buck naked save for an apron tied around his waist. Deciding not to overthink Charlie plastered himself to Patrick’s back and wrapped his arms around waist as he pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades.

“Morning sunshine,” was Patrick’s only response to this.

“Did you make tea?”

“Coffee,” Patrick replied.

Charlie grimaced before pausing and poking his head up to glaring around Patrick’s arm at the coffee mug sitting on the counter.  “Does it have alcohol in it?”

“It’s ten a.m.”

So yes then.

Wordlessly, Charlie reached around Patrick for it and took a sip, blinking rapidly as the overwhelming taste of whiskey hit his tongue considerably faster than the coffee.  Really, it tasted more like coffee-flavored whiskey than anything else, but Charlie really needed the kick in the ass.  He had an interview or press conference or…something in less than two hours, and he was still standing in barefoot, his hair a mess in his dressing gown plastered against his best mate’s back in the kitchen.  He needed to get his life together, but he just didn’t have it in him yet.

His part in shooting for _The Painted Man_ had wrapped close to midnight on Monday which had led directly into a six am flight out of Auckland to Heathrow that rounded out to a whopping twenty-four hour flight across the _entire United States_ that got him in Wednesday, where he’d immediately been in an interview with Hollis straight off the bat.  Exhausted didn’t even begin to describe how tired he was, and they resumed filming on Friday to top everything off.

Charlie just wanted to crash.

“Tired?”

“I’m absolutely wiped,” Charlie admitted.  “Your whiskey’s shit.”

“Excuse me, Chazza,” Patrick said with mock outrage, his tone soft. “That’s premium Irish whiskey straight from Cork. My stepfather bought it for me for Christmas, I’ll have you know.”

Charlie hummed thoughtfully and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s shoulder before he stole another sip.  “How unfortunate. I hope he didn’t give this to Murphy, he’d have a heart attack.”

“Murphy’s three.”

“The _other_ Murphy, twat,” Charlie responded good-naturedly.  “Did your mother like the jewelry box I got her?”

Patrick reached down and stroked along Charlie’s arm, and either didn’t notice or outright ignored the way Charlie shivered and pressed closer to him as goosepimples rose to the surface and his hair stood up at the lightest touch.  He needed to get it together before I popped a boner while wrapped around him. Charlie wasn’t sure how far their ‘no homo bro’ touching could actually go before Patrick got weirded out by how much Charlie craved his touch.

“Where do you find these ridiculously expensive antiques for her? And you should warn me about these things, I feel so hopelessly outclassed giving my own family presents when I also have to deliver yours,” Patrick told Charlie who only laughed.

“I have hopelessly Hipster friends,” Charlie responded ambiguously.

“Oh?” Patrick asked archly, peering over his shoulder at Charlie, “So you asked Irial to ask Cris where to buy antiques?”

“You’ll never get me to squeal!” Charlie deadpanned.

Patrick rolled his eyes fondly, “You’re so ridiculous.”

“Says the man cooking nude and wearing an apron.”

“It’s only you and me.  Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Charlie stilled, and Patrick stiffened, turning to look at him as Charlie drew back, just managing to get himself together enough to feign nonchalance as he leaned against the kitchen island and took a sip of Patrick’s Irish coffee. Patrick’s eyebrows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to ask the inevitable question when Charlie cut him off quickly, “Don’t you think you ought to start wearing clothes more often? This isn’t a nude colony.”

“Nope,” Patrick quipped, taking a step and another and another until he’d invaded Charlie’s space enough that Charlie could feel the heat pouring off his body and his breath caught in his chest.  Every inch of him screaming _kissmekissmekissme_ , but he knew better rationally, which didn’t mean he managed to _not_ be disappointed when all Patrick did was pluck the cup out of Charlie’s fingers and take a sip. “This is our home. The only other person who would care is Snow, and she wants us to be happy.”

“What if I care?”  Charlie challenged.

Patrick beamed and shrugged, leaning forward even more until their lips were nearly touching.  Charlie felt his whole body tense, his breath catch, and his heart stutter in time with the way his eyelashes fluttered as his gazes dropped from Patrick’s eyes to his lips. His hands clenched against the countertop and he swallowed anxiously.  For a moment, Patrick stilled a hairsbreadth away from Charlie and the air between them electrified and alive.  His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and Charlie stifled a whimper with an amount of control over his body that he personally found absolutely incredible.

With a jolt, Patrick swallowed and took a step back, mug held tightly in his hands, and his eyes on the floor.  Charlie released a jagged breath as quietly as he could closing his eyes and willing himself back together as he ran a trembling hand through his tangled blond hair.  When he opened his eyes, Charlie found Patrick already looking at him with something that looked a lot like lust and a bit like pain in his eyes before he cleared his throat and turned back to the stove, switching it off.

Wordlessly, Charlie moved to the cabinets and grabbed two plates, setting them down on the counter and watching in silence as Patrick plated breakfast. Snow whined, and Patrick smiled slightly, shaking his head and tossing the dog a sausage that she caught in midair with a self-satisfied tail wag.

“She’s gonna get fat,” Charlie pouted.

Patrick rolled his eyes and kissed Charlie’s temple as he grabbed both plates and made his way to the table.  “Doubtful, sunshine.”

Sighing, Charlie took out two glasses and went to the refrigerator for the orange juice.  He watched with a pinched expression as Patrick tossed Snow another sausage, looking back at Charlie with a mischievous, triumphant smirk.  He glared.  “She only has three legs. Her center of balance is already off. She needs to maintain a healthy weight to make sure her legs and balance stay at equilibrium.”

Raising his eyebrows, Patrick sat down on the bench of their breakfast nook, frowning when he realized he hadn’t laid out cutlery.  Charlie rolled his eyes and grabbed forks and knives as he made his way over to the table, and Patrick went back to smirking as he said: “You practice that one?”

“Or the vet told me,” Charlie pointed out, setting down the glasses and silverware.  When he moved to sit across from Patrick, the older man grabbed his wrist and gently tugged him back to sit beside him.  He wasn’t sure if he was emotionally in a position to curl up against Patrick’s still completely nude form while they ate breakfast together, not when his heart hadn’t stopped pounding, his body still seemed livewire, and his libido amped up, but he couldn’t say no without an explanation either.  So he sat down beside Patrick, cross-legged, and let his knee rest on Patrick’s thigh…decent.  “Don’t make her fat.”

“You’re going to give the poor girl a complex,” Patrick remarked, taking a sip of his orange juice as Charlie rolled his eyes, chewing the scrambled eggs and mozzarella cheese that Patrick only made because he knew that’s how Charlie liked them.

Fighting a bright smile, Charlie shook his head.  “She’s a dog.”

“It’s still fat-shaming.”

“It’s maintaining healthy weight.”

Patrick gave Charlie a patient look.  “Okay Michelle Obama.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and flicked Patrick’s thigh as he stole a sausage off Charlie’s plate with a wide, happy smile.  “You’ve spent entirely too much time in America.  You could have gone for Jamie Oliver, but instead you went Michelle Obama for healthy eating.  Weak, love.”

“Jamie Oliver got kicked out of the country for trying to health-i-fy school lunches.”

“One, that’s not a word.”  Patrick stuck his tongue out at Charlie who laughed and shook his head, resting his forearm on Patrick’s shoulder and leaning into him.  “Two, the only reason Michelle Obama _didn’t_ was because she’s a citizen and the First Lady.  Democrat, Republican, something in between, no one in that country liked her healthy lunches.”

“They wished they had Jamie Oliver back.”

“Have you _seen_ their lunches? They’d have chosen Jamie Oliver happily if they’d seen the alternative,” Charlie shuddered.

Patrick gave him a fond look and leaned forward to kiss his nose. “You spend too much time on Tumblr.”

“Actually,” Charlie said tartly, “Salem showed me that.”

“Umhm, likely story, I’ll fact check,” Patrick warned.

“Bring it on, baby,” Charlie taunted back, wiggling his eyebrows with a growing smile as he took a bite of his sausage.  Snow, sitting politely at end of the table, whined and watched the sausage with longing in her eyes.  He frowned and turned to give Patrick a venomous look.

Patrick rested a hand on Charlie’s thigh as the pair of them ate in relative silence, the sound of Patrick’s Twenty One Pilot’s cd playing in the background. The whole thing felt rather off-putting when their Christmas decorations still hung from the ceiling and walls, and big bouquets of Charlie’s poinsettias sat on the top of every counter. Neither of them were particularly big lovers of Christmas.  Patrick liked the sappy Hallmark movies, and Charlie liked the suspended, festive celebration that seemed to bring the bitter London cold weather to something of comfort, but aside from their families, they only decorated in case they had guests.

They were those people who did festive for their images rather than genuine enjoyment, which Charlie thought was true of most adult people without children.

Snow rested her head on the bench and pressed her nose against Charlie’s thigh. He huffed and shook his head, reaching down to stroke her head before turning back to Patrick. “What’d you do with moony over here when you went to Ireland?”

“Took her?”  Patrick returned, shrugging. “No reason not to. Although, she did have to be separated from my Aunt Kathleen’s sheepdog.  That little cretin kept biting her ass and making her yelp.”

“You put a dog in doggie timeout?”

Patrick nodded sagely, “Absolutely.  You make it seem like that’s not something I would ordinarily do.”

Fair point.

“How was filming?  In New Zealand? I saw that thing about you and Barbara.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head scoffing.  “First off, Barbara Rochester is a shit actor. _The Painted Man_ is going to be a shit movie with excellent, stunning cinematography and sets.  Whatever. But, yes, oh my God, _Barbara_.  So Xavier calls me – so did Luka, but I avoid his calls as a general rule – because I guess someone on Twitter got some blurry picture of me flirting with some guy in this gay bar I went to, which, frankly, some blond guy who vaguely looks like me dancing with another guy shouldn’t be cause to have my manager and publicist freak out like it’s the apocalypse, but I digress. They _didn’t_ see me blowing him in the loo, so I count that as a win.”

Patrick pursed his lips and stifled a smile as he shook his head.

Of all the people in the world, only two actually knew about how wild Charlie’s sex life actually was.  He blamed that partially on Patrick, because spending more than an hour in his presence and nearly constant touching each other got Charlie so worked up that neither cold shower nor masturbation would entirely help.  So he went out and got laid.

A lot.

Salem half thought it was funny – since people who _knew_ he was gay and didn’t think he was sleeping with the entire female population of Europe and North America thought he was some kind of cherubic innocent gay kid – and half worried he’d catch an STI, every now and then when he caught wind of Charlie being out at clubs he’d send a text about safe sex.  It would be annoying if he didn’t know Salem was coming from a place of love…and that Charlie would inevitably call _Salem_ to cry if he _did_ catch something from one of his numerous hook-ups.

“Anyway, I’m balls deep in this guy’s arse in the handicapped restroom of this club when fucking Luka calls me – ”

“And you _answered_?!”

Charlie laughed and shook his head, “ – no, so Xavier called…so I answered _that_ call.”

Patrick gave him a dry look, “While you were fucking this guy?”

His only reply to that inquiry was a smug smile and a dainty shrug. “Xavier flipped shit on me and demanded I counter the rumors by ‘whatever means necessary or he’d handle it.’” Charlie shook his head and grimaced at that, “The last time he ‘handled it,’ I ended up in some hundred year relationship with Chloe Masters when we both worked Disney.  Don’t get me wrong, it could have been worse, but we were friends. Somehow, our friendship didn’t manage to survive my leaving both her and Disney with an ‘I’m gay, sorry this isn’t going to work.’  Apparently, Chloe had feelings for me, which, I knew, to be fair, but we were teenagers and I didn’t think it was serious.”

“You have an unprecedented ability to make people fall in love with you, Chaz,” Patrick admitted, sipping his orange juice and smiling softly at Charlie.

_Not the person I want, though._

            Shaking off that line of thought, Charlie half-shrugged and turned back to his breakfast. “So I asked Barbara if she wanted to go to the New Year’s Eve party with me.  Pictures leaked, as expected.  She stuck her tongue down my throat, and I got her completely smashed, drove her to hotel, and slept on the sofa.  When she woke up the next morning, we ordered room service and played Black Jack in our pants.  I’m unconcerned.”

Patrick cocked his head and studied Charlie over the rim of his glass before finally saying, “Some people honestly think you’re this innocent little cherub.”

“I’ve been playing this game for a long time,” Charlie replied tonelessly.

Of all the things Charlie was proud of, his ability to manipulate both people and press definitely didn’t make the list.  It had been a necessary skill to acquire if he wanted to survive his own world.

Rolling his eyes and running a hand through his hair, Charlie turned to look at Patrick, “I – ”

They both froze at the sound of the key in the door before Charlie deflated, realizing who had a key other than Salem.  Salem who certainly wouldn’t be breaking in before noontime _ever_.

Sure enough, Evelyn appeared in the kitchen, Starbucks in hand and her Ray-Bans holding back her messy, thick dark hair.  Snow huffed and dropped to lie down on the floor, watching the woman without any hint of trouble as she dropped the keys on the counter and took a sip of her coffee, looking around the kitchen and startling when her eyes caught sight of Charlie and Patrick.

Putting a hand to her heart, Evelyn took a deep breath.  “God, fuck, hi.  Didn’t see you there.”

“You’re here early,” Patrick hedged carefully.

Evelyn nodded her head.  “My mother’s in town still and wanted to know if we could grab lunch.”

“You couldn’t call?”

“Didn’t think it mattered.  Why? Am I interrupting something?” The words were a challenge, and the way she crossed her arms over her chest only reinforced that.

Feeling awkward getting into the middle of their domestic squabble – and sitting beside the naked best friend he loved, lusted over, and adored – Charlie shook his head, popping the last of his eggs into his mouth. “No, of course not,” Charlie said before either of the glaring couple could.  “I have to go get ready for the interview or summat.”

“Anything else?”  Patrick asked as Charlie detangled himself from his boy and his dog.  He went to grab the plate until Patrick slid it away with a lazy smile, “I’ll get it.”

Charlie’s gaze darted to Evelyn who seemed to get redder and redder with each passing minute her boyfriend didn’t acknowledge her.  “Um…maybe?  I might go grab froyo with Salem.  I did promise him. Or…shopping.  Poppy.  If she’s in town.”

Patrick nodded, “Let me know when you’re heading back.”

“Why? You planning on cooking dinner?”

“I might be!” He declared with a feigned look of outrage.

“Uh-huh,” Charlie said as he made his way passed Evelyn to the stairs, Snow trailing behind him.  “I’ll call you!” He called over his shoulder.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Evelyn screech: “Fuck, Patrick, were you having breakfast _naked_?!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry almost Christmas! Happy Friday! I saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens (omfg...if anyone ever meets JJ Abrams give him a hug for me because oh my god)! Also I'm home for Christmas, still haven't done my essay for class, but I've gotten a good chunk of this story written so...I guess that's okay then?


	13. "Need the Sun to Break" by James Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2016: The aftermath of Boston

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

Great NYE with @CharlieBeck @Salem_Daiki in NYC #myboys

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

Was it great? Didn’t you vomit your weight in Artichoke Pizza?

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

I take it back @Salem_Daiki you suck and I’m getting rid of you.

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@13poppies :P

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: sweetlysadieaus@gmail.com

Subject: Flight and Filming

Charlie—

I’ve attached your flight confirmation…actually make it on time please dear God I’m begging you. Also, I’ve booked it so that you get in about two days prior to when shooting picks up so that you’ll have time to catch up on sleep and get yourself back into the proper time zone. Xavier and Luka both want me to tell you to call them (I’m fairly certain they’re still mad about your NYE stunt i.e. not being papped kissing a GIRL) but I digress. Aaron will be waiting at the airport, and I’m about 99% sure Patrick managed to con his way into coming as well.

—Sadie

 

**Text message to Chaz**

**Patrick:** Where rrrrrrrrrr uuuuuuuu?

 **Patrick:** It’s been forever what if I don’t recognize you????

 **Patrick:** Chaaaaazzzzzzzaaaaaaa did you forget me?

 **Patrick:** Answer meeeeeeee pleeeeeeezzzzzz

 **Patrick:** I think I’m annoying Aaron.

 **Patrick:** Oooooooommmmmmmgggggggg CHAZZZAAA y do u no luv mi?

 **Chaz:** Lmao Trick. Get back in the car

 **Patrick:** SUNSHINE!!!!!!

 **Chaz:** Lolz yeah boo. I’m coming.

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Ok @CharlieBeck @Mc_QueenHolly out here killin this scene #iwaswrong

 

**Jazz Tiergarten (@Jazz_StyleGroupUK)**

@notthecountry I mean…told you so :P

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

@CharlieBeck omg swoon dude

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ I’m feeling very objectified rn

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck don’t look at me I’m with everyone else…objectifying objectively.

* * *

Charlie was flagging, and Patrick could see it all the way across the room where he stood leaning against the wall with a bottle of water clenched in his hand and Evelyn Merritt leaning against the wall as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger, batting her eyelashes at him.

He knew well enough what she wanted, but Patrick had no intention of humoring her or giving into her flirtations. She was beautiful; he supposed, almost porcelain in her flawlessness, cold but capable of warming with a kind-hearted smile and a self-conscious – but entirely calculated – tug of her sweater paws. But Charlie shone, glowed, illuminated Patrick’s world and set ablaze with a glory and ferocity that he wanted to rejoice in instead of run from. Everything about Charlie was exceptional and bright and breathtaking.

And he was flagging.

“Cut!” Scout called out, and Charlie tugged on one of the plaited extensions that had been glued onto his scalp before flipping them away from his face and smiling weakly at Hollis. “Great! That was great!”

It wasn’t.

Patrick wouldn’t be the one telling Scout that, though, not a chance. For Charlie, acting came as naturally as breathing, but Patrick knew Charlie well enough to tell when he was putting his all in it, and when he was going through the motions. The list of people who’d noticed was a short one, Patrick suspected, but that didn’t mean he’d let Charlie get away with stewing.

Patiently, Patrick watched as Charlie gave Hollis a hug before making his way to Patrick with a guarded look. He took the water bottle out of Patrick’s hand and downed half of it, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. “You good, sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Charlie shrugged, faking a dejected smile.

“Uh-huh,” Patrick said doubtfully, resting a hand on Charlie’s waist and squeezing gently. “You want to talk about it?”

Charlie pouted and tugged on one of his plaits with irritation. “No,” he snapped, turning on his heel and marching towards hair and wardrobe with purpose. Shaking his head, Patrick followed with a weak goodbye nod to Evelyn.

Leaning against the doorframe, Patrick watched their wardrobe stylist hover and wince as Charlie yanked off his costume and throw it across the room onto the sofa. Their stylist’s assistant scurrying to grab the pieces he’d tossed and quickly throw them over Charlie’s clothing rack. Huffing, Charlie smiled apologetically took the pair of jeans and the shirt Jonah held out to him with a severely unimpressed look on his face. He’d only just pulled on his trousers and shirt when their hair stylist tugged him to the chair and shoved him into it without a word, quickly and efficiently taking out the extensions before slapping the back of his head.

Tipping his head back, Charlie smiled sheepishly up at their hair stylist who hummed disdainfully before stalking away, and Patrick pushed off the doorway and made his way over to stand behind Charlie’s chair. They met eyes in the mirror, and Patrick leaned over Charlie’s chair to wrap his arms around his neck in a loose hug, pressing their cheeks together and holding each other’s gazes through the mirror.

“Shopping or ice cream,” Patrick offered. Charlie made a face, ready to argue, but Patrick cut him off sharply. “We’re talking about it. This is me offering you a choice of venue so: shopping or ice cream.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Charlie reached up to grip Patrick’s arms, holding him tightly to his chest. He turned his head to press his lips into Patrick’s cheek. “Shopping then, but I want a caramel Frappuccino. Absolutely from Starbucks. No exceptions.”

* * *

They went to Harrods, which Patrick could have lived without ever having stepped foot in after the one time he’d lost his mother in one of the dozen stairwells in his early adolescence. His adoration towards Charlie was so much so that he endured and leaned against the wall as he pawed through the racks in the Sandro boutique with one hand while he sipped his extra large caramel Frappuccino. An attendant watched him like a hawk, wincing each time the drink tipped a little too close to the designer fabrics.

Patrick’s gaze went to the leather jacket, crooking an eyebrow and tilting his head with interest before turning his attention back to Charlie.

Regardless of the reason Patrick had voluntary brought his shopaholic, fashionista best friend to one of the biggest designer clothing shops in the city, Charlie had become absorbed the moment he’d stepped inside the gaudy, massive shop. If Patrick let him, Charlie would spend hours combing through the building, and, choosy as Charlie was about his clothing, he’d come out with at least three bags that totaled a number that would make university students everywhere weep with irritation, jealousy, and frustration. Totally understandably, in fact. In any case, Patrick had no desire to suffer through one Charlie’s intense shopping trips without at least getting answers.

Cocking his head, Patrick watched anxiously as Charlie worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied an overpriced plain white Henley thoughtfully.

“What happened in Boston?”

That certainly wasn’t subtle.

Instead of clamming up, Charlie shot Patrick an amused look and tossed his hair artfully. He quirked an eyebrow, and Charlie rolled his eyes and mimed Patrick’s go-to action to shuffle his fringe out of his own eyes. _What a dick_ , but he was _Patrick’s…_ sort of.

Shaking his head with a bemused expression, Charlie turned to the attendant who stiffened when he realized the attention was on him, and Charlie waved pointedly with a bright smile that had the poor kid melting as Charlie tugged Patrick out of the kiosk and into the hallway. He glanced over at Patrick who crooked an eyebrow, waiting patiently.

He smiled slightly, genuinely, and Patrick felt himself relax at Charlie’s easygoing attitude. Whatever had happened in Boston, Charlie seemed down but not _upset_ , which certainly relieved Patrick who’d rather never see Charlie upset at all.

“Have you ever been in love?”

 _I’m in love with you_ was the immediate thought that came to him, followed swiftly by: _what a loaded question_.

He answered succinctly, “No.”

Charlie nodded as though he’d expected that, and Patrick wondered whether or not he should be offended that a seventeen-year-old actor didn’t expect a twenty-one year old man who’d grown up in middle class Ireland to have ever been in the kind of relationship people wrote poems and sonnets and songs about.

His eyes fell to the ring on Charlie’s right hand that his thumb toyed with. The one he touched or twisted on his ring finger every time he got anxious without fail. The ring he never went without. The ring that Patrick had no idea how he’d even gotten. Reaching out, Patrick took his hand and tapped his own finger on the jade jewel pointedly, and Charlie smirked knowingly and nodded softly, his face flushing as Patrick entwined their fingers loosely, barely conscious of the fact that they were in a public, crowded place where literally _anyone_ could recognize Charlie and that people already _had_.

“I have,” Charlie told him honestly.

It didn’t particularly come as a shock, but that made it no less surprising, not when Charlie had grown up in the heart of Hollywood and on the screen, closeted behind his own harshly womanizing image, and hadn’t even turned eighteen yet. Really it made Patrick feel woefully inadequate.

“Salem?”

Charlie half-smiled and shrugged, pressing his lips together and tugging him into Saint Laurent for a distraction that Charlie really didn’t need.

Getting Charlie to talk about things he’d rather not was nothing like pulling teeth. It was more like trying to change the US government through censored propaganda on syndicated television networks and a democratic process dependent on qualified candidates that hadn’t been corrupted by the power accompanied by being a career politician. And, yes, maybe Patrick had spent entirely too much time in the States.

Patrick huffed as Charlie’s sapphire eyes peered up at him from above the rack of clothes he’d hidden behind, flickering away when they met Patrick’s eyes.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Chaz?”

“Umhmm.”

“‘Waiting for you is like waiting for rain to fall in this drought.’”

Charlie narrowed his eyes on Patrick and brandished his cup at him. “Don’t do it.”

“Useless,” Patrick grinned, “and disappointing.”

“Motherfucker,” he cursed in annoyance. “You did not just insult me using _A Cinderella Story._ ”

“That’s my shite.”

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Charlie rolled his eyes. “That’s sad. You at least should have gone for Drew Barrymore’s version. _Ever After._ ”

“But _A Cinderella Story_ has Hilary Duff,” Patrick pointed out.

Charlie made a face before acquiescing with an understanding nod. Hilary Duff was fantastic.

“I’m waiting.”

Smirking, Charlie pulled off a shirt and tossed it over his shoulder dramatically. “I’m being useless and disappointing.”

“Charles!”

He cackled as he strolled away, and Patrick huffed but followed along behind him, plucking the hanger and shirt from Charlie’s fingertips and graciously accepting the hideous leopard print jumper Charlie handed him with only a quirked eyebrow and pursed lips. Charlie had the most bizarre sense of style, but it was both lauded by critics and uniquely him. Also, it made Charlie happy, his manager and publicist furious, and Salem and Poppy smug.

Patrick went with it.

“The ring,” Charlie started abruptly, “was a six month anniversary present from Salem.”

“Looks expensive.”

“Probably _is_.”

Patrick hadn’t known Salem – a student with a middle class home with a single mother as far as he knew – could afford huge black diamond and jade rings. When he said as much, Charlie raised his eyebrows and gave a noncommittal wave of his hand, eyeing Patrick first calculatingly before he nodded and handing him a black jumper with zipper shoulders.

“ _That one_ we’re not going to talk about, Patty. Don’t push,” he warned.

It automatically alerted Patrick onto the fact that however Salem made his money was probably both illegal and insanely lucrative. And as a man who’d gotten himself early admission into MIT for computer science and engineering, Patrick could guess well enough what he got up to in his spare time. But like Charlie had ordered, he decided not to push it.

“How long where you together?”

“Seven months,” Charlie said as his lips curved up into a tiny smile.

“Did you two fight?”

Charlie whirled around to gape at Patrick. “Salem and I don’t fight.”

“Is that _healthy_?”

“We were together _seven months_ , most of that long distance. The whole relationship was the honeymoon phase, Pattycake.” Charlie whipped a sleek peacoat off the rack and held up. “Be honest, Patty. Do you like this?”

“Yes. Why are you trying to dress me?”

Charlie gave him a disbelieving look. “Because – no offense – you’ve been a relatively big name since you started on with the _Hush, Hush_ film franchise in 2012, but you still dress like a you’re making minimum wage at a vintage record shop in the wrong part of Dublin.”

“I think that was kind of an insult,” Patrick mused.

Instead of caring, Charlie pursed his lips, tilted his head, and narrowed his eyes on Patrick’s wardrobe. “Is that Abercrombie and Fitch?”

“Jack Wills.”

“That’s worse,” Charlie intoned bleakly. “Not even Topman.”

“I’m not pretentious,” Patrick teased.

“I am,” he announced, utterly unashamed.

Patrick scoffed, “I _know_. What were you? Sixteen the first time you wore haute couture to a premiere?”

Charlie smiled, reminiscing, and hummed. “Fifteen. Disney was not impressed with me. My mother was though.” Patrick stared at him and waited for an answer to the question that had already been asked too many times to bear repeating, and Charlie met his gaze before sighing. “It’s nothing _bad_ , Trick. I just…it’s over.”

“It was over before wasn’t it?”

“Well…” Charlie trailed off with something that looked a lot like guilt flashing across his face before he straightened his back and nodded decisively. “Yes and no. Me and Salem, we’ll never be done. He’s my best friend. I love him. I wanted to…build a life with him. Some day. I guess. I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Yes, I do,” he laughed deprecatingly. “That’s something I wanted until…real life came and kicked me in the ass. I know better than to want things I can’t have.”

Patrick watched him for a moment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “I thought you said you broke up with him because of distance, Chaz.” Without speaking, Charlie turned to him, his face carefully composed and watching Patrick, waiting for something. He didn’t want to puzzle it out, though. He wanted the truth. “Why do you keep changing the story?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie’s face-hardened so quickly that Patrick’s mouth fell open in shock. He’d never seen him react like that to anything.

Charlie’s version of ‘clamming up’ consisted of well-placed barbs disguised behind charm and smiles that managed to effortlessly charm and permanently endear as he said nothing at all and how much he hated you simultaneously. He didn’t snap or shut down. He acted, bluffed, and swerved his way out of every uncomfortable situation, unanswerable question, or forthright accusation.

If he’d intended for his seemingly involuntary response to deflecting the question to ward of Patrick’s suspicion, it didn’t.

Shaking off his funk with a forced shudder that relaxed his whole body and a charming grin that gave Patrick’s heart a pang despite its intent at deception, Charlie replied lightly, “Boston finished what we started months ago. It just…hit home for me, that’s all. I knew we were over, and it’s not about our _breakup_. My mood, I mean. I’ll be over it soon.”

Patrick nodded slowly and gave him a comforting smile, reaching out to pinch his side. “You don’t have to ‘get over it soon,’ Sunshine. I’m not criticizing you. I just wanted to help.”

“I know, Pattycake, but I’m annoying myself,” Charlie giggled, his mood genuinely seeming to shift as he held up a pair of leather skinny jeans. “Now be honest: what do you think of these?”

He gaped. “What the hell year do you think this is rockstar?”

Laughing, Charlie clarified, “They’re not for _you_ , Patty.” He tossed the jeans to Patrick who caught them with an eye roll as he checked the size of a pair of what looked suspiciously like £500 distressed skinny jeans and proceeded to hold them up, grinning. “ _These_ are for you.”

He shook his head in a daze and trailed after Charlie, basking in the boy’s obvious and infectious joy even as his mind turned over the bigger questions: Why had he broken up with the boyfriend he’d clearly been in love with? And what had happened that was so bad that he’d both sworn off relationships and sulked in his own melancholia for days?

Charlie wouldn’t tell him, so Patrick would just have to figure it out for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy almost Christmas! Happy Star Wars the Force Awakened is out. Happy JJ Abrams saved the universe. Happy Kylo Ren is the most awesomely awesome awesomeness I can't even.
> 
> Anyway, the flashback chapters are nearly at an end I believe. Just one or two more, and I am so happy with the way this story is turning out actually. I'm gonna scream. It's fantastic.


	14. "Family Portrait" by Pink

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Stayed up all night so I could be the first to wish @CharlieBeck a happy bday (what’s good @Salem_Daiki?)

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@StPatty_ bring it bitch! And happy happy bday to my lovely bestie @CharlieBeck

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck you’re officially not a teen anymore!!!!!!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@13poppies that sounds soooo creepy. Also yay me I guess? #imworkinganyway

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Evelyn:** Tell me this is a joke

 **Patrick:** Should it be?

 **Evelyn:** It’s valentine’s day.

 **Patrick:** This is not the first time this has happened Evie

 **Evelyn:** R u kidding me rn?

 **Evelyn:** Tell me this is a joke.

 **Evelyn:** Charlie was ILL last yr. That y I let it go.

 **Patrick:** It’s his birthday…

 **Evelyn:** It’s valentine’s day. It’s a day to celebrate your love and relationship

**Patrick:** <http://www1.cbn.com/st-valentine-real-story>

**Patrick:** Just saying

 

**Text message to Luka-m Your Father**

**Luka-mYour Father:** It’s imperative that this stays lowkey

 **Luka-mYour Father:** I’m advising it happens not at all

 **Luka-mYour Father:** The chances of you getting caught are incredibly high.

 **Patrick:** No offense but I don’t care.

 **Luka-mYour Father:** Think about what it looks like.

 **Patrick:** Friends celebrating another friend’s bday?

 **Luka-mYour Father:** On Valentine’s Day?

 **Patrick:** That’s when Chaz’s bday is….?????

 **Luka-mYour Father:** Be discreet Patrick.

 **Patrick:** I’m ignoring you. You know this, yes?

 **Patrick:** His family’s going to be there too!

 **Luka-mYour Father:** You’re hosting a bday party with his family?

 **Luka-mYour Father:** Ffs is Salem coming too?

 **Patrick:** Salem’s got a date with a pro footballer.

 **Luka-mYour Father:** I’ve heard enough. I’m calling your manager.

 **Patrick:** Go for it

 **Patrick:** If you get him on board I’ll ignore him too.

 

**Text message to Pete**

**Patrick:** Don’t even try it

 **Patrick:** Ignore them and they’ll go away

 **Pete:** They’re not children

 **Patrick:** What kind of parenting class did YOU take Peter? ~~~~

* * *

Poppy found him hiding in the corner of the hayloft and graciously didn’t comment on the fact that he had no respect for the destruction guaranteed to his overpriced Sandro skinny jeans and Saint Laurent cashmere sweater.

In fact, in her own runway ready outfit, she plopped down beside him and leaned her back against the wall, both of them staring up at the ceiling in silence that was neither weighty nor uncomfortable.

Charlie adored his elder sister. Idolized her, even.

They’d managed to become close – whether in spite of or because of the distance between them, he wasn’t sure – against all odds. Poppy had recognized who and what Charlie was long before him. Charlie and Poppy had been five and nine respectively when, on a visit to whatever film set he’d been on at the time, Charlie had indulged Poppy’s styling phase. Unwisely unsupervised – as their father had been screwing their nanny, though they hadn’t learned that yet – Poppy had ransacked the film makeup artist’s cosmetics, painted Charlie’s nails, done up his hair, and made up his face.

Samuel Beck had been furious when he’d come back, the makeup artist had been amused, and Patricia, their nanny, had been mortified.

Poppy had sat for half an hour in timeout.

Charlie had cried when he’d been scolded for allowing her to ‘paint him like a girl’ and cried when he’d been forced to take the makeup off.

Somehow, Charlie didn’t think his sister had ever forgiven their father for the lesson that had been rigidly instilled in Charlie that day by listening to his father’s fury and watching him scream Poppy into a timid but seething timeout. It had taken almost a decade for him to dare to freely admit he liked anything of that nature again.

Some days, Charlie counted his lucky stars _that_ had been the position their father had found them in and not the time they’d been trading confession on male celebrity crushes a couple years later when he’d sheepishly admitted his thought girls were gross but kissing a cute boy didn’t seem so bad. Poppy had given him a long look but hadn’t brought it up again until he’d come out to her years later over Skype.

“Soren and I broke up,” Poppy spoke first.

“Again?”

Soren and Poppy had been on-again off-again almost as long as they’d known each other. It had begun at eighteen when they’d met at the Victoria Secret fashion show where she’d been walking for the first time and he’d been performing. A whirlwind romance had simmered into emotional intimacy but enough static electric passion that they tended to have minor blowups that spiraled into nasty wars. Nothing had ever made it into the rags despite how public their fights could sometimes be – Charlie figured Soren’s management and PR were to thank for _that_ – but everyone who knew them _knew_.

“What happened this time?”

Poppy huffed and shook her head. “Arsehole wrote some dumbass song about me being argumentative, prickly, and ‘an exceptional sin of the worst kind of way.’ What does that even mean?”

Charlie turned towards her with an amused look. “Don’t you think you’re being a tad ridiculous?”

“No,” she snapped. “So I told him if that’s what he thought of me, then he could go date one of his legion of celebrity fangirls. And _he_ said that was perfectly alright because at least they’d appreciate his _art_. Can you believe him?”

“Kinda,” Charlie confessed, half-smiling when Poppy elbowed him.

“Seriously, did the twat call then?” When he refused to answer, Poppy rolled her eyes. “Patrick’s looking for you, you know.”

“Lies,” Charlie remarked with a pout. “I told him I was going into the hayloft to sulk and lick my wounds. Naturally that means he sent you to remind me that our darling father is an absolute fucker, and I shouldn’t let him spoil my birthday. Real or not real?”

Snorting at the reference, Poppy replied shortly, “Real.” She reached out and ran her fingers through his hair, and he let his eyes fall shut as he hummed, relaxing into the touch. “What did the twat say?”

“Nothing nice.”

“Given.”

“I talked to Trish.”

“Ugh.”

Patricia Markowitz, their stepmother, was a genuine trophy wife from the roots of her dyed platinum hair to the heels of her Christian Louboutin. Originally, she had been employed straight out of university first as an au pair, then as a full time nanny to Charlie when he’d been toted back and forth between shootings in the States and visits with his mother in London. Somewhere along the way, she’d started screwing Samuel right under everyone’s nose and had helped implode their parent’s marriage when Charlie had been five.

Poppy, who’d been older and more knowledgeable of the whole affair, had hated both Patricia and Samuel from the very start, which had led to her alienation from their father and his new family with his mistress-turned-trophy wife. Charlie had been closer to his father and less clear on the murky ethics of his parent’s troubled divorce. Patricia had never been his favorite caretaker as a child – and he’d been a Momma’s Boy to the nth degree – but she’d only ever been the enemy when Poppy scolded him for not thinking of her that way.

His ambivalence to the woman had ended when Patricia had swayed his father into making her psychotic, greedy sister his legal guardian.

They weren’t even related.

Patricia had made it clear she didn’t care what Charlie wanted or what he thought.

She’d popped out three kids to ensure Samuel remained with her – Dante, Rocco, and Allegra – but both his mother, Libby, and their father’s ex-wife before _that_ , Polish ex-supermodel Kaja Brzezicki, knew from personal experience that Samuel Beck did what – and _who_ – he wanted, kids be damned. Their eldest sibling, Kaja’s only child, Jarek, had fled from his crazy family tree to become a photo-journalist for National Geographic who went months at a time supposedly without cell phone service.

Charlie and Poppy didn’t necessarily _buy_ that, but they certainly understood it.

“He talked to Luka and Xavier, I guess. He said that I need to be more discreet, stop fawning and hanging all over Pat. Stop looking like I want to ‘drop to my knees and suck him’ in interviews with his girlfriend. ‘Control yourself, you’re not an animal. What will your siblings think?’” Charlie imitated in a perfect copy of their father’s tone, which neither sounded severe or mean, but a smooth, pleasant tenor not unlike Charlie’s own voice with a light Australian accent.

The stark dissonance pissed Charlie off 99% of the time he dealt with his father.

Poppy gaped at him. “He didn’t.”

“Of course he did. I assume the nonsense about the kids came from Patricia, honestly. She’s still pissed I sent her sister packing to Birmingham without a reference for work even now. But she ought be lucky I gave _no_ reference, because if I’d been _asked_ by an employer I might have had to tell the truth.” Charlie narrowed his eyes and cocked his head before admitting, “Besides, Dante called and asked me if anal hurt and whether condoms should be used even for giving a blowie.”

She stuttered, and Charlie looked over at her with raised eyebrows. “What did you tell him? Nothing I hope! He’s a child!”

Charlie made a disbelieving face as he stared at his sister incredulously. His sister who’d emailed him a link to RedTube, several NHS awareness articles of safe sex and STIs, and a pamphlet on gay and anal sex from some LGBT teen organization when he’d told her he’d started dating Salem.

“Dante’s fourteen and at an all boys boarding school. I told him anal hurts like a motherfucker the first time around and to make sure he prepped until his ass was numb and use, like, the whole fucking bottle of lube if he had to. Also, yes to condoms. Always. I trust any fourteen year old boys to be on the up and up with health and safety.”

Poppy groaned, “You have a death wish.”

“I refuse to let Dante become Charlie Sheen, first of all. And second, I wouldn’t worry about it. Dante wants to be a surgeon not a celebrity so it’s perfectly acceptable for him to suck cock.”

She cringed, “Let’s not use Dante and _those words_ in a sentence. Ever again.”

Charlie shrugged.

Poppy sighed, “Did he even wish you a happy birthday? Or was he just disgusting.”

The sad thing was that Charlie realized he didn’t _mean_ to be. Samuel Beck wasn’t homophobic, and he rarely ever was an asshole. Not in the usual way anyway.

His half-brother, Jarek, had nailed Samuel when he’d gotten into an argument with Samuel before he’d flown to Ghana. Charlie would forever remember him glaring at Samuel and snapping in a coolly, level voice: “You’re a celebrity not a husband. And you’re a friend not a father. I needed a father not someone who wants to constantly talk about what’s best for my career over pints I’m not old enough to drink! You’re the nicest asshole I’ve ever met, dad, but you’re still a selfish asshole!”

Like Charlie said, Samuel wasn’t a homophobe, didn’t care outside his circle of friends, supported the people closest to him who came out. He’d rallied for marriage equality in the US and UK, but Samuel was a celebrity who lived and loved the lifestyle. He loved award shows and after parties and being publicly adored by the press and spending hours rehearsing his lines again and again to get things perfectly.

Charlie simply loved acting everything else came with drama and stress.

(Okay, he could admit he enjoyed photoshoots and red carpets events because: fashion but otherwise…)

Samuel’s view of parenting Charlie began and ended with his acting career. He’d always been more mentor than father and once Charlie had realized that, had let go of the childish fantasy of his father being soft and loving with him instead an unyielding teacher, everything had gotten easier. Including not taking his homophobic, ‘conceal, don’t feel’, ‘don’t ask, don’t tell, don’t get caught’ policy on Charlie’s sexuality.

Because homosexuality was okay for people not looking to be major film stars.

Charlie understood his point.

That certainly didn’t mean he _liked_ him.

“He was…” Shaking his head and sighing, Charlie told Poppy sagely, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It _does_ , that arse. I’m gonna toss him into an active volcano on day. Swear to God. It might even be worth the jail time.”

“You could meet Dante, Rocco, and Allegra instead.”

Poppy went quiet, and Charlie looked over at her to find his sister staring across the room at the wall with a thoughtful, haunted look on her face. Abruptly, she shook herself out of it and gave him a weak smile as she stood up, brushing off her butt daintily. “Ugh, those horrible names. No, no. Up we go, lovely. We’re going to make a concentrated effort to ignore Samuel Beck’s existence until tomorrow when we’ll most likely be forced to acknowledge it for one reason or another.”

Charlie let his sister help pull him to his feet and dust him off with a frown. “Do you think he loves us, Poppy?”

Without missing a beat, Poppy stated, “Not the way a parent should.” Cupping his face in between her hands, Poppy gave him a soft smile and pressed kiss to his cheek. “Don’t let him ruin your birthday.”

Easier said than done, Charlie thought, but he nodded his head and follow Poppy down from the hayloft and into the near empty stables, only a handful of stable hands milling around cleaning and the stablemaster, Vincent, who wasn’t seen but could be heard by the loud classic music blasting from his office.

Patrick leaned against the entryway with his head tilted up, a strand of his dark hair falling into his eyes, and the sun shining warmly on his face. Charlie’s breath caught, and Poppy slanted him an amused look as she put an arm on his lower back and prodded him forward. Shooting her a poisonous look, Charlie played with his ring and stepped forward, his lips curving upwards when Patrick noticed him and scrambled, running his fingers through his hair anxiously and shooting Charlie a tentative smile.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

And there went all pretenses.

Charlie lunged into Patrick who caught him and held him tightly and firmly, letting Charlie burrow into him as he rubbed a hand up and down his back.

“Is my mum mad at me?” Charlie murmured.

Patrick scoffed, “It’s _your_ birthday, darling, you can cry if you want to.” Huffing out a laugh, Charlie pulled back to punch him lightly in the chest. Patrick grinned. “No, your stepfather’s too busy keeping her from eating your ice cream cake.”

“There’s ice cream cake?” Charlie perked up gleefully.

Poppy rolled her eyes. “Of _course_ there’s ice cream cake, Chaz. What do you think is?”

“Is there also OPI nail varnish and that corduroy Burberry trench coat I’ve been salivating over for months?” He asked archly from Patrick’s arms, blinking innocently at her and smiling genially.

Poppy reached over to poke his dimple, and Charlie narrowed his eyes on her and pressed himself against Patrick. She smirked and shrugged one shoulder dismissively. His sister. What a bitch.

Grinning, Poppy answered dismissively, “There might be.”

Charlie peered up at Patrick. “Is she a lying liar who lies?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t actually ask what her and your mum bought you for your birthday.”

“What did _you_ buy me for my birthday?” Charlie inquired with coyly as Patrick shoved him away lightly, catching his hand and lacing their fingers together. He tugged Charlie after Poppy, across the great expanse of classic cut lawn towards the towering and completely ridiculous Harbourne estate rising in front of them.

And really, what was even more outrageous than the fact that his mother owned and lived in what essentially was a castle just outside of London proper was that when she had guests who knew her well enough she flexed her sense of humor by wandering around the house in haute couture ballgowns. Hell, their family photos once Libby had married her latest husband, Fitzroy Jameson (surprisingly not famous like her previous five significant others), consisted of them in velvet suits and Victorian gowns with petticoats.

Fitz had been a solid team player for being the only member of the family who didn’t enjoy dressing up.

Charlie reached over to clutch Patrick’s forearm with his free hand and beamed at him teasingly. “Give me a hint? Jewelry. _Diamonds_. Not clothes. You’re way to insecure in your fashion knowledge to buy me clothing.”

Patrick shot him a sarcastic look. “Actually, I bought you Yik Yak socks and a Tumblr t-shirt.”

His mouth dropped open, stilling in the doorway to the kitchen as he said gravely. “You didn’t.” His stomach dropped, eyes widening as Patrick’s smile only grew more smug as he yanked open the door and waved Charlie inside, gently guiding him into the building with a hand on his hip, ignoring Charlie’s incredulity.

He _did_ , in fact, raid Redbubble for a Tumblr t-shirt and Yik Yak socks…and bought Salem a Tiffany’s sapphire and diamond platinum ring that he’d hidden at in the depths of the god awful, absolutely hideous socks. It was embarrassing how delighted that made Charlie, and how much it only pushed him deeper into the rabbit hole of complex and unrequited emotion he couldn’t climb out of.

Not that he’d ever tried that hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, Charlie's birthday is on Valentine's Day. It brought me joy.  
> Also, a little bit about Charlie's past and family life :)


	15. "Playing for Keeps" by Elle King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blowup everyone's been waiting for

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Starting to shoot the finale in my hometown !!!!

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

Fam! I’m coming home for filming!!!! And my birthday!!!!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Mc_QueenHolly does that mean we get to party in Manhattan? Yes!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Salem_Daiki Boston again.

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** Visiting MIT again?

 **Charlie:** Lolz no. 1 trip to ur tiny dorm was enough

 **Salem:** Asshole!

 **Salem:** Thought you were shooting in Brooklyn.

 **Charlie:** Boston and Brooklyn. Break neck schedule.

 **Salem:** Try to have some fun

 **Charlie:** Evelyn hates me

 **Salem:** No offense but you make it easy.

 **Charlie:** -.-

 

**Marisol (@SunshineDaisies12)**

OMG I ACTUALLY MET @StPatty_ @CharlieBeck @TheChocolateRoomBK !!!!

 

**_Ethereal_ cast party it up for McQueen’s birthday**

The cast of CW’s London-based hit television show, _Ethereal_ , have spent most of March filming the season’s final episodes in Boston and Brooklyn. Various member’s of the shows star-studded cast have been spotted at clubs and restaurants all over the five boroughs, but the whole cast was in attendance for New York- born, Hollis McQueen’s, twenty first birthday. The cast and crew all threw her a celebratory lunch at Carmine’s before meeting up with her at Space Ibiza after she joined her family for a dinner at Southern Comfort in Hell’s Kitchen. Amongst the famous cast, Patrick Gallagher and girlfriend and costar, Evelyn Merritt, were pictured getting close on the dancefloor. As were Sienna Mortimer and Charlie Beck, though he was photographed leaving the club with Victoria Secret model, Tessa Nikson, and _Ethereal_ writer and creator, Israel. Here’s to hoping for another exciting cast night out on the town and with Evelyn Merritt’s twenty-second birthday coming up we’re waiting with bated breath.

 

**Reblogged by sunshinetricks**

**3therealbones**

Can we talk about them filming in Boston and NYC?

#that means they’re visiting the council #probably brody’s family too #or Ciara’s foster family #i’m so excited

**letmelivechatrick**

Ok but can we talk about Patrick and Charlie being bromantic in the U S of A?

#they’re fucking adorable #central park dates #laddie bro pal dates #even if they’re not sleeping together #they’re super fucking cute #chatrick #patrick Gallagher #charlie beck

* * *

“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Israel?” Patrick exclaimed in surprise, carefully distangling himself from the group he and Evelyn had been schmoozing to approach his friend.

Israel gave a bashful smile as ze shook hir head and clutched hir Margarita to hir chest. Ze looked entirely unlike hirself, styled to the nines in what could only be designer trousers, suede and burnt orange, tucked into a pair of knee-high pant leg boots with a long-sleeve, gloved cashmere top and a furry vest. Hir had been curled into ringlets and tucked under a fedora that he knew with certainty belonged to Charlie. Charlie who’d had Patrick’s clothes delivered to his hotel room with a note attached to it that read ‘For the party, wear it :)’ and so he had.

Shaking hir head, Israel tucked a curl behind hir ear and raised hir eyebrows as ze took a sip of hir drink. “Your boy got ahold of me. Let me tell you, that boy can out shop my girlfriend, and _she’s_ a celebrity stylist. God help me, don’t most celebrities pay people to do this kind of dirty work for them? No one enjoys shopping like this!” Israel exclaimed, waving a hand in irritation.

Patrick’s lips curved into a half-smile. “Did you send Jazz a picture? Tell me you did.”

Scowling, Israel made a noncommittal noise and a flippant hand motion. Ze moaned and downed the rest of the drink, raising her eyebrows. “She’s positively gleeful.”

“It’s a wonder someone as fashionable as her puts up with the likes of you,” Patrick teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Israel remarked, “go buy me another drink, Patty.”

Laughing, Patrick threw an arm around hir shoulders and lead her to the bar.

The combination of Evelyn’s birthday party and the cast wrap party was being held at the Soho House where majority of cast, it turned out, had membership. Patrick hadn’t, and Charlie had slanted him a disbelieving look when he’d heard that one and dragged him off to register for a membership. In terms of throwing the party, it wouldn’t have mattered, but Charlie, apparently, refused to let him live without joining some glorified international, famous people-only country club.

Patrick knew better than to refuse Charlie anything.

Evelyn flitted around the room, basking in the glory of having all eyes on her. She looked gorgeous, Patrick knew, flawless and perfect. Happy even. A weight had settled in his stomach every time he looked at her because after two years of being together, Patrick could neither love her nor stop caring about her enough for it to make any significant difference. He stayed with her, because Charlie needed the distraction, didn’t want to hurt her, but he couldn’t love her either, couldn’t force himself to stop feeling anything except completely intoxicated and overwhelmed by everything about Charlie.

Even in the middle of his girlfriend’s birthday party, he’d spent most of the time looking for his boy, and, despite spending the whole day with her, hadn’t refrained from texting Charlie every chance he got since he’d woken up beside her to join Charlie for a morning exercise routine in hotel gym. The whole thing felt skeevy and had since Patrick had realized just how gone he was over the young actor. Of course, Patrick was already in too deep to back out of everything now.

He’d dug the hole deep enough that he’d have to claw his way out tooth and nail.

He didn’t want to think about it now.

Patrick _wanted_ marijuana and alcohol, in that order.

“Someone’s cracked out the cocaine,” Hollis announced unnecessarily as she sidled up to the bar and reclining against the glossy bar countertop.

Patrick looked over at her, his eyebrows rising on her as well. Hollis decked out in a patterned chiffon romper and spiked platform Christian Louboutin pumps with her kinky curls pulled back into a tight, high ponytail with a pair of diamond hoop earrings. Where Israel usually looked like the female Rambo with a splash of color, Hollis, when she had the choice, dressed in the jeans she’d had since high school and a collection of t-shirts that she ordered off of Redbubble with alarming frequency.

She noticed his look and made a face, taking the Long Island Iced Tea that the bartender offered and met Patrick’s gaze. “Yeah, your ‘bestie’ got his hooks into me too.”

“Were the air quotes necessary?” Patrick huffed as he took the Margarita and whiskey sour from the bartender with thanks, handing the cocktail to Israel and a generous tip to the bartender.

Israel scoffed and looked over at Hollis who rolled her head back and gave Patrick a long-suffering look. He needed more male friends, honestly. He glanced over at Israel who smirked and waggled hir eyebrows. _Or, at least, friends who don’t feed off my pain. Fucking hell._ Hollis threw back her head and laughed as she nodded her head and took a sip of her drink. “Do _you_ think they were necessary?”

“I don’t think they _weren’t_ ,” Israel added hir two sense in as well.

“Ooh,” Hollis laughed and pointed her.

“What are we talking about?” Taylor Davis inquired as she made her way over to the bar.

Did the woman ever stop working?

Filming had officially wrapped and they were supposed to be letting their hair down at a party.

Instead, Taylor had shown up to the bar with her short blonde hair still gelled back and dressed like a business executives in shades of black and white, pressed and stiflingly formal. Didn’t the woman ever get tired of looking like she could step into a courtroom at any moment and fuck every inside without remorse?

Israel peered at hir boss and friend over the rim of her salted glass before putting it down on the counter with a definitive clink. “Don’t you ever fucking chill, Tay?”

Taylor tossed her a droll look before ordering a rum and coke from the bartender with a bored tone that had Patrick raising his eyebrows at her. She shrugged one shoulder and threw back one of the vodka shots lying on the bar counter between them as her eyes moved between the three of them. Her lips lifted as she shook her head. “Charlie then? Since we’re all here ganging up on Patty? What is it this time?”

“Why they’re not fucking,” Hollis retorted succinctly.

“Fucking hell, Holly.”

With a laugh, Hollis shrugged, and Taylor nodded as she down another couple gulps of her drink. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” Rolling her eyes, Taylor turned her attention to Israel whose eyebrows rose as ze finger waved at hir. “Do we really care? Do we really need to talk about this?”

“Christ, Tay, try not to be a wet blanket for all of ten minutes.”

Sighing tiredly, Taylor nodded and put her cup down. “Fine, I’ll bite. Let’s talk about Patrick’s love life because why not?”

“Because I’d rather not,” Patrick insisted.

Rolling hir eyes, Israel took a joint out of hir pocket and grinned as ze held it up between them. Huffing, Patrick pulled a lighter out of his pocket and brought it to the end of hir joint, lighting it for hir and watching with a blithe expression as ze took a drag, smirked, and offered it to him.

Taylor scrunched her nose. “I hate marijuana, Issie.”

“That’s why I didn’t ask,” Israel remarked as he took a long drag.

Hollis giggled and sipped her drink. “Let’s talk about my favorite boys, shall we?”

“No,” Patrick moaned.

“Yes,” Hollis returned.

“What’s the problem?” Taylor remarked, “It’s not lack of sexual chemistry, because yours is off the charts. All I hear day in and day out is Li Min bitching about the station whining about Israel’s homoerotic scenes – ”

“Is it ‘homoerotic’ if they’re gay for each other?” Israel mused thoughtfully, taking the joint from Patrick’s fingertips.

Hollis and Patrick shared a quick smile while Taylor took another long swallow of her drink, wrinkling her nose at it and pointedly ignoring Israel’s comment about her characters. “This is _really_ weak? Does no one in the country like alcohol?”

“We mix drinks properly,” Hollis commented. “Not make semi-tasty concoctions designed to get people drunk.”

Taylor grimaced, and Patrick shook his head in agreement. Bloody Americans. Taylor continued, “And how the studio think you and Charlie need to relax on your ‘public displays of affection.’ She’s ignored them because Li Min says there’s too much sexual tension for the pair of you to be screwing. So what’s the problem?”

“My girlfriend,” Patrick bit out.

His executive producer waved a dainty hand dismissively, peering over her shoulder at the lithe, beautiful girlfriend who had a champagne flute dangling from her lacquered fingernails as she threw her head back and laughed at what their hair stylist, Miriam, said. Snorting, Taylor turned back to him with a dubious look and raised her glass with a sarcastic raise of her eyebrows. “Yeah, okay, your girlfriend who you love so dearly and are so attached to that you decided _not_ to live with her or spend Valentine’s Day with her to keep your best friend happy.”

Israel and Hollis giggled while Patrick narrowed his eyes on Taylor who shrugged on shoulder pointedly, smirking. He shook his head. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Un-complicate it,” Taylor commented blithely.

Nodding hir head in agreement, Israel remarked, “Humanity’s determined to make life more difficult. I don’t think things are half as complicated as humanity deludes itself into believing they are.”

Patrick frowned at her. “Have you _looked_ at your relationship?”

“Jazz and I are…” Israel trailed off before stilling, frowning, and shooting a glare at Patrick, snatching the joint he’d acquired out of his fingers as he and Hollis laughed. Taylor only quirked an eyebrow at her. “Did I say I wasn’t a part of humanity?”

Fair enough.

Taylor cuffed Patrick lightly on the side of the head with pursed lips. “Speak Irishman.”

And he wanted to.

All these years that Patrick had watched Charlie hurt, convinced himself to keep his mouth shut and watch as his carefully constructed lies burrowed under Charlie’s skin and pained him in a clear and enduring manner that haunted Patrick. All these years he’d forced himself not to be who he was or feel what he felt, and though he’d never quite succeeded in anything beyond forcing himself to keep his silence and his hands off of his best friend, it weighed on him. Except for Salem who always knew more than he said and Israel who knew nothing much but more than enough, Patrick had never really talked about what he wanted or why he couldn’t bring himself to have it.

Maybe just this once. Maybe he could do it. Maybe he could admit it.

Maybe.

Evelyn shrieked, and the four of them turned their heads to find her gaping.

At Charlie.

Of fucking course.

Charlie sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair looking distinctly dressed down for his usual MO. He still looked like a runway model in an oversized, distressed blue shirt, ripped white skinny jeans, a patterned Saint Laurent scarf, and a pair of lace-up leather boots. He was also wearing a condescending smile and a hook wrap bracelet Patrick had bought him around his wrist. A man with dark hair, pale skin, and an annoyed expression stood close enough beside him to have Patrick clenching his teeth while Israel slanted him an amused look.

Calmly, Charlie took a sip of the drink in his hand. “Was screaming necessary, Evelyn?”

“You were making out with my _brother_!” She screeched.

Ah, yeah, Nick. That’s who that was.

Li Min took the mobile phone from her ear and pressed it against the fabric of her cardigan to glare at Evelyn from across the room for making a scene. “Can it, Evelyn!” She shouted.

Evelyn gritted her teeth and grabbed Charlie, pulling him through the room and into the back hallway with Nick trailing behind uncertainly. Patrick groaned and shook his head.

“I guess I go rescue him.”

Hollis slapped his arm and nodded. Patrick took one last drag off the blunt before handing it back to Israel who met Taylor’s eyes as she shook her head and ordered another round. Israel smirked and raised her empty glass at Patrick. “Problems all of your own making, piss-head.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Patrick said as he pushed off the bar, leaving his glass behind as he made his way to where Evelyn, Nick, and Charlie had disappeared.

“I do this quite a lot actually, Evie,” Patrick heard Nick say stubbornly.

“With _him_.”

“With _men_.” Nick corrected, “I’m _pansexual_. You _know_ that. What’s the issue?”

“With _him_?” Evelyn demanded. Charlie rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink as Nick made a face, reeling back in understanding. Patrick sidled up, hands in his pockets as he watched Charlie’s eyes go from Evelyn to him, a smiling splitting across his face. Patrick shook his head and smiling back slightly.

Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “God, Evie, _this_ still? You need to get over it.”

“He’s straight, Nicky. He’s just doing this to get back at me.” Evelyn pleaded with me.

Charlie scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Am I? When did I ever say that?”

Evelyn’s head whirled around to glare at him, nostrils flaring and her whole body growing taut as stared at him. Patrick hesitated, his eyes moving between the two of them as Evelyn let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh my God, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you hate me so much. God, I figured but…I wasn’t…everyone said you were…”

“Evelyn,” Patrick interrupted.

She spun around to face him. “Did you know about this, Patrick? Did you know about _him_?”

Nick’s eyebrows rose as he raised his hands, turning to look at Charlie who shrugged. Shaking his head, Nick backed away and went back to the party, wisely choosing not to get involved in a domestic issue between them that was complicated enough that even _Patrick_ wished he could run away from it.

And, okay, that was lie.

Whatever this drama was, wherever it had come from, Patrick knew he wouldn’t trade _Charlie_ for anything. Not even some emotional peace.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Patrick rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like he’s got a disease, Evelyn. He’s gay.”

“He’s in love with you,” Evelyn snapped. Patrick winced and pressed his lips together while Charlie jolted, eyes filling with tears as he looked down at his feet like he was going to be physically sick. “Did you know that?”

“Does it matter?”

“ _Yes_!” Evelyn replied, “Because it kind of seems like you love him back! Do you love me at all? Are you two sleeping together? There are so many questions now do you even get that? So many things I _need_ to know and reconcile in my head, so _yes_ , Patrick, it fucking matters!”

“It’s none of your business,” Charlie murmured, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Evelyn turned her furious gaze on him, and Patrick interrupted before she could ream him. “It had no bearing on your life whatsoever. Stop being ridiculous.”

“How is this ridiculous?” Evelyn demanded, sniffing and crossing her arms over her chest and angrily swiping away tears. “Your best friend hates me, makes out with my brother because he’s in love with you. Turns out to be gay. You knew all of this and didn’t tell me!” Patrick rolled his eyes, and Charlie shifted, biting the inside of his cheek uncomfortably. He shifted towards Patrick before realization of the conversation – and the way Evelyn’s eyes seemed to light with fury that could fuel hell for the next century – had him stiffening and curling into himself.

Patrick swallowed and shook his head, despising the look on Charlie’s face. He’d worked long and hard to make sure he’d never have to see it.

“You won’t move in with me. You try your hardest not to see my family. You ditch me _all the time_ for him. You didn’t tell me he was gay. You didn’t tell me he was in love with you. You fly off to see him at the drop of a hat and buy him presents when we’re on dates just because you think they’ll make him happy. And text him all the fucking time. And since we’re living in a world where the sexuality of the roommate/best friend/work-husband whose _in love with you_ is down to ‘I didn’t ask’. I’m asking.”

“Patty’s not…” Charlie started.

Patrick spoke without thinking, getting angrier the more uncomfortable and embarrassed Charlie seemed by this conversation, shrinking into himself. “I’m bisexual, Evelyn, but I absolutely resent your blatant implication that we’re sleeping together. That happened once ages ago, and I wouldn’t do that. Not you and certainly not to him.”

The room went still and silent.

It took a minute for it to sink in, and when it did, Patrick’s eyes closed, hands coming up to cover his mouth in shock and dismay. He shouldn’t have fucking said that.

“You _what_?!” Evelyn hissed.

Patrick shook his head and decided to focus on the man he loved whose warring emotions he could detect without once looking. Running a trembling hand through his hair and ignoring his girlfriend’s pleading and angry question, Patrick turned to Charlie who watched him through wide, teary eyes alight with betrayal. He winced. “Chaz…”

“No.” Charlie shook his head, “Ugh…I…no, you can’t…you don’t remember that. You’re not… you would have _told_ me that.” He blinked, trying to force back the tears that had welled too many to overflow. “Tell me you didn’t do this to me, Patty. Please.”

Evelyn scoffed, “Wow, nicely played. He fucked us both.”

Patrick shook his head and took a step towards Charlie. “Chaz, please, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand? That you’ve been lying to me for years? That you knew that I loved you for years and didn’t say anything. You didn’t shoot me down. You lived with me and didn’t help me move on. Instead you hid your sexuality from everyone and convinced me that you forgot the one night I wish I could forget but can’t and don’t _really_ want to because I’m love with you and I wish I weren’t. You’re my best friend, and you spent years lying to me. Did you enjoy torturing me? Did you enjoy seeing me fall all over myself for you? Or did you just not care? You had to have not cared, right?” Charlie shrugged and shook his head, face crumpling as he started to cry silently, brushing away the tears with the back of his hand.

“Chaz,” Patrick tried, taking another step towards him while he took a step back, holding his hands up and shaking his head. “That’s not what happened.”

“People who _care_ don’t do what you did to me.” Charlie said before pursing his lips together and nodding pointedly, “I would know. How could you do this to me?”

“If you’d just let me explain…”

“No,” Charlie snapped decisively, pressing the heel of his hand to his eyes and taking a deep breath before straightening up, tossing his hair out of his eyes, and saying firmly. “No. I think I’d better go.”

“Can we talk about this at home? Please?” Patrick pleaded.

“I think I’m just gonna go to LA. I have to be in San Francisco in a few days anyway, and I don’t want to see you. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I don’t owe you anything.” He laughed humorlessly and stepped around Patrick. “I’m…” he started before shaking his head, biting his lip, and downing the rest of his drink. He handed Patrick the glass and stalked away.

Patrick watched him go, only just realizing he’d been silently crying. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and turned to Evelyn who watched him impassively. Clearing his throat, Patrick said firmly, “I think we need to talk, Evie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Evelyn and Patrick finally lost their shit, and so did Patrick and Charlie. I do not like the Soho Rooms. I'm just not a fan of everything they represent, but Charlie's posh enough that he definitely would have a membership, and Patrick's had a grounded enough upbringing that he probably wouldn't.
> 
> Next chapter will be out tomorrow, and it will explain a little bit about why Patrick hid what he hid...I think. I wrote it earlier this month, and this story's in a completely different place now :D


	16. "Zero to a Hundred" by Drake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2016 (I lied it's not when you learn why Patrick has issues but it is still important)

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** Georgia & Max want me to study abroad in London.

**Charlie:** askedjnejdhnedfhudnjgvfijg ^.^

**Salem:** …would you be cool with that?

**Charlie:** YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

**Salem:** Lmfao. Ok. I guess I’ll be seeing a lot of you next year.

**Charlie:** :D

 

**Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher more than friends?**

Our favorite bromance is making waves and headlines after being papped together at Sketch: Lecture Room and Library in Mayfair on what looked suspiciously like a date. The dynamic pair have been practically joined at the hip since meeting before filming for their hit television show, _Ethereal_ , took off in July and even moved in together. The 18-year-old child star and 21-year-old Irish heartthrob, deemed “Chatrick” by their loyal shippers, have seemed impervious to controversy surrounding their close friendship. “I love shipping,” Beck admitting in an interview this passed week when asked about the online movement. “I think it’s a great way to express creativity and, often, to bring attention and inclusivity to a group that’s underrepresented in popular press and certainly in entertainment. It’s not ‘controversial.’ It’s a topic that can be revisited with seriousness when the queer community is represented beyond typecast, stereotyped characters in marginalized roles.” Reps for both the actors denied a relationship between the pair of them, Gallagher’s only saying, “They’re incredibly close but certainly not in any relationship beyond friendship.” While that may be true, we can at least admit how cute it would be if they _were_ dating.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck how did my saying ‘no dog’ turn into us adopting a dog?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ who could resist our baby girl’s adorable face?

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck you mean your sad eyes and pout?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ whatever works baby ;)

 

**Text message to Dickwad Xavier**

**Dickwad Xavier:** Luka and I would like schedule a meeting with you

**Charlie:** Honestly I’d rather not

**Dickwad Xavier:** That’s not an option

**Charlie:** Can I acknowledge I know what this is about and move on?

**Dickward Xavier:** Luka and I both feel that something of this severity requires a meeting

**Charlie:** You and Luka should just get married

**Charlie:** You spend enough time together.

**Charlie:** But then, I know how you two feel about homosexuality

**Dickwad Xavier:** Sadie says you’re free Wednesday.

**Charlie:** Lovely. Steal my one day off. Fine.

**Dickwad Xavier:** Baltic. 13:00.

* * *

Charlie was punctual even when it came to dealing with his two least favorite people on planet earth, which meant he showed up to Baltic, the chic Eastern European restaurant in Southwark only a ten minute walk away from the Thames River. It seemed at first glance like exactly the kind of place both his manager and his publicist would drag him to if they wanted to intimidate him with its sleek sophistication. And, maybe, years ago that would have worked – hell, a year ago it _had_ – but Charlie’s innocence, naivety, and insecurity had been drained away and replaced with a core of steel, hard resolve, and an extremely low tolerance not only for bullshit but for his team in general.

Where a year ago Charlie had slunk in with hunched shoulders and a bowed head, today he’d shown up in head-to-toe Saint Laurent, a fedora, and a pair of overpriced designer sunglasses with his nails painted, the ring Salem had given him on his finger, and an earring dangling from his ear just to drive the point home. He also managed to charm the hostess into seating them dead in the center of the room, directly beneath the skylight, instead of where she’d originally intended (where Xavier had originally _requested_ in the back).

By the time Luka and Xavier arrived, Charlie had sprawled himself at the table, had the waitstaff eating out of the palm of his hand, and was sipping on a blackcurrant flavored Polish vodka without wincing. Neither of the men seemed pleased by that particular development.

Of the two men who micromanaged Charlie’s life, he could never tell which of them his disliked the most, teetering between the two of them by whichever became the largest annoyance at the time. It had been that way since he’d become savvy enough to recognize them for what they both were but unable to do anything about and had amplified in the last couple of years to a point of frustration that Charlie found disconcerting and occasionally downright infuriating.

They both knew that well enough.

Xavier Wilson and Luka Abrami might as well have been interchangeable goons if not for the fact that one was a rail thin, pasty-skinned Englishman from Dover and the other was a dark-skinned, thick-haired Italian Casanova. Both had a preference for Italian leather shoes, Armani three-piece suits that Charlie could appreciate regardless of his hatred for the men in them, and expensive booze and caviar. And both had been his father and stepmother’s hires to police his career since early on in his childhood.

His manager, Xavier, had come first after his agent who, thankfully, only bothered him with phone calls and emails about jobs people wanted him for or that he might be interested in. Xavier and Samuel had been fast friends after many an industry party, but Samuel had a manager he knew well and had too much history with to throw to the wayside because of a good friendship and solid working relationship. Patricia had suggested he take on managing Charlie’s career since her sister, however legally in charge of Charlie when away from his parents, was unqualified to help him in his career.

Luka had been brought in after the fact when Charlie had been caught checking out a male cast member when he was barely even a teenager to keep him locked down tight in an iron closet.

He’d been unfortunately enough to get himself locked into five year contract with Xavier just before getting emancipated courtesy of his legal guardian and a three year one with Luka.

Frankly, Charlie couldn’t wait to be rid of them both.

“I ordered pelmeni and pierogi. Hope you don’t mind,” Charlie announced as they sat down across from him.

Luka scowled, and Xavier quirked an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you enjoyed Eastern European food.” He eyed Charlie’s drink like it was poisonous.

Charlie grinned and took a long, deliberate sip of his flavored vodka. Luka rolled his eyes. For all his faults, Luka, at least, had more of a sense of humor than Xavier. “I dated a Russian,” Charlie pointed out.

Luka sighed, “Not so loud.”

“No one’s listening,” Charlie remarked blithely. “Besides, I could be talking Natalia Rodchenko, the high fashion model I’ve apparently been chatting up,” he raised his eyebrows pointed at Luka who shrugged unapologetically, “don’t be so paranoid, Luka darling.”

His publicist grimaces, and Charlie’s smile widens as the waitress makes her way over and sets down the two steaming plates of Russian dumplings. Xavier makes a face, and Charlie ignores him entirely, swooping up the menus and handing them to the woman. He smiles, and she melts the way they always do.

“ _Spasiba_ , love, my friends here will have two old-fashioneds, the caviar, and a cheese plate, if you have it. No need to worry about lunch, either, the starters should be quite enough I don’t anticipate this should take long.” He gave her another of his charming, dimpled smiles, and the woman smiled back easily nodding her head and turning on her heel to march to the kitchen. Smile fixed in place, Charlie turned back to Luka and Xavier, his eyes flitting between them as they exchanged a look.

Every now and then, Charlie reminded them that he wasn’t thirteen years old anymore, and every time the men shared a look that spoke volumes about how devastating he could be if he had the ability. Sometimes they both seemed to forget they’d worked tirelessly to create a chained, furious dog that both desired and prepared to bite them should his leash be given the slightest millimeter of slack.

It terrified them.

Their sheer terror about the recoil they’d receive from Charlie in the future seemed outweighed by their greed and professional power plays. The closeting and publicity dates seemed as much for the promotion and publication of the Charlie Beck Brand as they did to see Charlie pissed off. They almost always ended in retaliation these days, and half the time Charlie’s publicity seemed more like a series of moves and countermoves of a war between he and the people who controlled his brand image insofar as they _could_. Even the press picked up on the tension every now and then.

Really, Charlie should play nicer with the pair of them.

Except he _had_ , and it hadn’t gotten him anywhere except inhaling four pints of Phish Food ice cream, binge watching _Friends_ , and curling up in his mother’s lap to reminisce about lost love with Pat Benatar played in the background on her vintage record player.

No, no, the time for playing nice with the pair of them was over. They’d dug their graves, and now Charlie would watch them drown in it.

“I assume you’re aware of what this meeting is about?” Luka took charge after exchanging another minute glance with Xavier.

Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes, finishing his vodka and narrowing his eyes at the pair of them across the table. Did he know what this meeting was about? Didn’t everybody?

From the moment he’d seen Sugarscape’s tactless headline talking about something they knew nothing about Charlie had known this phone call was coming. Just like all those months ago with Yahoo Celeb had had the gall to report on him and Salem’s unusually close friendship. The only difference was this time Charlie _wasn’t_ actually in a relationship with the person he’d been subtly accused of dating no matter how much he wanted to be.

That and his hatred for his manager and publicist had morphed into full on loathing that automatically put him off listening to anything they had to say.

“My apparently voracious libido and numerous blatant hookups with high profile women? I read that in a magazine the other day at the supermarket. Bizarre, really,” Charlie mused before shrugging. “But then, if _that_ was the problem it wouldn’t _be_ a problem, right?”

Xavier huffed, “Charlie, you’re so convinced we’re the bad guys, but this isn’t a film.”

_And I’m not a child,_ Charlie carefully kept to himself as he ate a pierogi and watched Xavier blandly, his patience worn just from the man’s condescending tone alone.

“We’re not here to control you. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re not even here to piss you off or get even or whatever else you think we’re doing. Luka and I are here to _protect_ you.”

“No,” Charlie cut him off serenely, pointing a finger at him. “You and Luka are here to protect my _brand_. And you’re good at it, don’t get me wrong. The problem here is that I absolutely despise my brand, but you know that. I suppose I ought to thank you for at least making me a gentlemanly womanizer who always leaves his hordes of women happy and sated instead of some deadbeat, scumbag lothario with a string of broken hearts and bedpost notches behind him, but the _problem_ is the moniker of ‘womanizer’ full stop.”

Xavier sighed and took a gulp of his drink, shooting his gaze to Luka.

Effortlessly, the Italian publicist took the metaphorical baton being passed to him with a thin smile and a stab of his fork into the steamed, doughy dumpling. A threat if Charlie had ever seen one. “We’ve talked about that, Charlie.”

“Have we?”

Tipping back in his seat, he flagged down the waitress for another drink with a sunny, grateful smile and a twinkle in his eyes that hardened and sharpened into finely honed blades as he clunked his chair back onto all four legs and looked to Luka and Xavier.

Luka cleared his throat and played with his necktie. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” The waitress came over with Charlie’s drink, and he shifted in the blink of an eye back into the charming, dimpled, bright-eyed and widely grinning celebrity as he accepted the drink with a bow of his head. “Thank you so much, love.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she blushed even as she batted her eyelashes at Charlie. “Let me know if you gentlemen need anything else.”

“Will do,” Charlie flirted back lightly as her face turned scarlet and her hips swayed seductively as she made her way back towards the kitchen. He turned to Xavier and Luka, eyebrows raised pointedly.

“We’ve given you a remarkable amount of leeway, Charlie,” Luka tried to negotiate.

Charlie scoffed skeptically, “ _Have_ you?”

Luka crossed his arms over his chest, and Xavier’s eyes darted between the two men as he sipped his old-fashioned and nibbled on a pierogi, trying to let Luka maintain control of the conversation.

If Xavier thought letting Luka do most of the talking would endear Charlie more to Xavier, then he’d be massively disappointed.

Xavier didn’t have to speak _at all_ for Charlie to know who’d put Luka up to most of the bullshit.

“The studio is nearly as unhappy about your…overt attachment to Patrick Gallagher – ”

“My best friend,” Charlie interrupted pointedly.

“ – as Xavier and I are.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows and sipped his vodka, “My heart bleeds for you men.”

Xavier slammed his glass down on the table and glared at Charlie who watched him with a bland stare. He crooked an eyebrow at Xavier’s temper, and Xavier’s glare only grew more heated.

Luka leaned forward, “You’re all over him.”

“We’re close.”

“And the sexual innuendoes?”

“I’m _eighteen_.”

“He kissed your temple while his hand was on your thigh yesterday. On camera.”

Charlie sighed and shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you Luka. Personally, I’d love to be fucking my best friend, but that’s not actually happening. We’re European. Is affection between male friends really that much of a foreign concept?”

“It is when you’re a closeted gay man,” Luka informed him.

“That’s _your_ problem,” Charlie retorted sagely. “I didn’t ask to be closeted, and I’m not about to curb my behavior to make your job easier. The list of things I’ve done because you twisted my arm makes it so that I have more interest in watching you fail than helping you succeed.”

Luka shook his head, and Xavier sighed. “If this is about that _boy_ …”

Charlie’s face-hardened as he leaned forward to glare at Xavier. “ _That boy_ was my boyfriend. I was _in love_ with him.”

“It’s not like you’re not still friends, and we let that go without argument,” Luka waved a dismissive hand.

“I wasn’t aware that you could dictate my friendships now,” Charlie hissed. Luka gave him a pointed look, and Charlie laughed humorlessly. “I don’t want to talk about Salem. If we’re going to talk about anything, we can talk about the fact that I was wearing purity rings and kissing my female costars at thirteen because I looked at Eric Monroe’s ass too long when I was twelve.”

Xavier groaned, “My God, are we back to this?”

“What do you want?” Charlie demanded, “Other than my friendship bastardized?”

Luka shrugged one-shoulder, “If you won’t bend on monitoring and scaling back your public interactions with your…friend.” Charlie glared at him, furious, and Luka just met his gaze levelly, not the least bit cowed. “Then I want a public, flirty date… _with a woman_ ,” he clarified.

Charlie downed the rest of his drink in one swallow and grimaced.

He couldn’t say he’d been unaware of what this meeting was probably about, but it didn’t make him feel any better about the issue.

Rolling his eyes, Charlie shrugged one shoulder. “And I assume you already have someone in mind.”

“Reva Benoit’s agent’s reached out to me, yes,” Xavier added.

He grimaced.

Reva Benoit.

Charlie had met the up-and-coming model less than a week ago during London fashion week where and Patrick had gate crashed to watch Poppy walk for his mother’s haute couture fashion line. Reva and Poppy didn’t get along. Reva and Libby didn’t get along. Frankly, Charlie might be the easiest-going of his immediate family, but if neither his sister nor mother nor even his _stepfather_ – mentioned Reva in passing with a scrunched nose and heavy frown – liked Reva, he doubted he’d be able to put up with her for long enough to stunt.

Cocking his head, Charlie narrowed his eyes on Xavier before his lips quirked upwards into a smirk. “Salem’s moving to London in September.”

Xavier sputtered, and Luka’s mouth dropped open, gaping.

Charlie nodded and popped a pierogi into his mouth thoughtfully before finally shifting as he sat up. “Shall we negotiate, then? Excellent. I refuse to put up with Reva Benoit just like I refuse to sign an official contract for stunting that I know you’ll twist and turn and lock me into because we’ve been there before and I don’t trust you, right?” Xavier gritted his teeth, but Luka seemed unsurprised. “So, how about this? I’ll be spotted at several high profile parties with high profile women until filming for the season wraps in March. I’ll agree to stunt with Devon while we’re shooting _Angelfall_ through till I come back in July. And when I go to visit Salem and Max in Rio when I have that gap in filming, I’ll even be pictured with someone attractive, famous, and female. You’ll let go of this hang up you have with me and Patrick, and we all call it a day without anyone losing their mind, deal?”

Luka quirked his eyebrow and glanced at Xavier who half-shrugged one shoulder. Charlie pressed his lips together in a tight line, fighting the growing urge to smirk in triumph when he realized that they might just give him what he’d asked for. Luka turned his dark-eyed gaze to Charlie and leaned forward. “Let me make this clear, this agreement is dependent upon one thing and one thing only: you keeping your dick in your own pants and out of Patrick Gallagher entirely. Are _we_ clear?”

Charlie pursed his lips and raised his chin in defiance, his body tensing and blood running cold as he nodded sharply. “Deal,” he got to his feet and looked down at them with a thin smile. “Thanks for lunch, gentlemen.”

By the time he reached the sidewalk, Charlie was hyperventilating.

Aaron steered Charlie into the back of the SUV where Patrick had curled up in seat with his phone in his hand and a disgruntled look on his face. “How’d it go then?” He asked, peering at Charlie over the screen, and Charlie gave him a wan smile and resolved that Patrick would never know because Charlie had no intention of keeping the devil’s deal he’d made at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baltic is real.  
> Also I LOVE Polish food!  
> Also Merry/Happy post-Christmas, and a Happy Upcoming New Year!


	17. "If I Go" by Ella Eyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick enlists backup

**Split! After nearly two years Evelyn and Patrick call it quits!**

_Ethereal_ ’s it-couple, Evelyn Merritt and Patrick Gallagher, have officially called it quits a source close to the couple confirmed reports only days after the season three shooting wrapped with Evelyn’s birthday party in New York. The English actress’s rep cited a mutual and amicable separation after a year and a half together, but rumors from social media says that the pair got into a fight, possibly over Patrick’s best friend and actor Charlie Beck, at the Soho Room in New York where the wrap party and Merritt’s birthday party was being held. Patrick Gallagher confirmed in an interview with GQ that the relationship had ‘quite reached its pinnacle’ and that they had ‘nothing more to say to each other.’ Evelyn agreed with her ex, telling TMZ that there was ‘no chance’ for them to reconcile. Whatever the reason we’re certainly sad to see one of our favorite couples gone.

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** Can you please talk to me, Chaz?

**Patrick:** Please it’s a lot more than you think

**Patrick:** I have an explanation

**Patrick:** Please Charlie

**Patrick:** I’ll call Salem

 

**Interview with Charlie Beck and Devon Rousse**

**Interviewer:** This is the last movie in the franchise. How do you feel going into it?

**Devon:** Nervous.

**Charlie:** Excited. I’m glad we didn’t split it into two.

**Devon:** Was there enough material for that?

**Charlie:** Hollywood finds a way when they want to.

**Interviewer:** (laughs) That’s true. And you two? You’ve been on-and-off personally since the start of filming Angelfall in 2016. Any chance for your two to stick it out after shooting wraps?

**Charlie:** I think our relationship has been greatly exaggerated by the press.

**Devon:** I agree. We work really well together, and it’s been an absolute privilege to get to work with one of Hollywood’s greatest child stars.

**Charlie:** You’re making me blush, Dev.

**Devon:** ( _pats his hand_ ) And I’m sure our friendship will prevail, but that’s all it is. I’d love to work with him again on another project, for sure.

**Charlie:** Another angel movie?

**Devon:** I’d settled for vampires.

**Charlie:** Oh God no! At least go zombies! Come on!

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Patrick:** Chaz won’t talk to me.

**Salem:** I know.

**Patrick:** Saaaallllleeeeemmmmm

**Salem:** Patrick. Do you want to grab lunch and talk about it?

**Patrick:** Yes.

**Salem:** It’ll have to be a working lunch.

**Patrick:** Do you think Chaz will forgive me?

**Salem:** Monday. 12:30. Nandos.

**Patrick:** Sold.

* * *

 

The first time Patrick Gallagher had met Salem Petrov in the flesh had been when he’d flown into Rio de Janeiro for the weekend in 2016 and hid out with Charlie in his hotel room to avoid awkward questions and unwanted commentary from both of their managers. He’d been a mess of color with studded skinny jeans, tattoos, and a massive number of piercings so completely, bizarrely opposite of Charlie that Patrick had wondered for a grand total of twenty seconds how they’d even hooked up to begin with. That, of course, had ended with Salem grinning and pulling out his mobile phone with a broad snirk and a bemused ‘you want to see what your boy was like when he wore True Religion jeans and Jack Wills t-shirts like some laddie dude bro pal?’

Charlie had grimaced, and Patrick had laughed, taking to Salem like a house on fire, which was ultimately for the best. Charlie and Salem, for two people who’d dated – no matter how seriously – for a mere seven months, were family; their families adored each other, they adored each other, and Patrick would have been halfway out the door if Salem hadn’t adored Patrick half as much as Charlie did.

If he thought Salem and Charlie seemed oddly disjointed in their relationship, it had nothing on Salem and Arthur Bailey, Salem’s not-flatmate, not-boyfriend, and one of England’s favorite and best football players to-date. Where Charlie’s style was flow-y, fashion-forward, and artistic, Bailey’s was simply posh. He looked like a walking advertisement for Burberry majority of the time, and attending simple luncheon before he was due at practice hadn’t made much of a difference.

Whereas Salem had shown up in a pair of harem sweatpants and a fitted Henley shirt with his bleached hair twisted up in a bun on the top of his head, Bailey, almost sat completely in Salem’s lap, was in a pair of black trousers, a striped cashmere sweater, and a blazer, his own hair tied back at the base of his neck and his eyebrows furrowed as he studied the menu in his hand. Bailey leaned into Salem. “If I get drumsticks will you share them with me?”

“Yes, but I refuse to share peri chips.”

Bailey smirked, “I’ll get my own.”

“Ooh, yes, peri chips,” Irial Dorian chirped happily from where he was wedged in the booth between Cheryl Atterberry, his show co-host, and his boyfriend, Cris Emerson. Irial ran his fingers through Cris’s hair and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You’re getting some too, love?”

Cris hummed thoughtfully, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes on the menu. “I’ll just steal some of yours and get coleslaw, I think.”

Irial made a face of disgust while Cheryl mimed vomiting. The redheaded woman wedged in between Cheryl and a cinnamon-haired, gangly man beside Salem looked over at Cris with a pinched expression on her face. “Coleslaw? The hell you say you were from again because I’m from the South, and _I_ hate that shit.”

“What shit?” Israel inquired from behind Patrick who startled and looked over at his best friend. Ze shoved him towards the booth, sliding into the seat beside him and rested hir elbows on the table with a wry smile. “Hi all.”

The seven other people waved and greeted hir with bright smiles. Salem passed his menu over to hir, turning to look over at Patrick with a wry smile.

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows at Salem whose only response to his wordless rebuke was to shrug and smile.

“I know,” Salem admitted. “Bailey invited himself, where Harry goes Rosie’s almost sure to follow. Rosie told Irial who brought Cherrie because they always try to meet up for lunch before the show. Cris tagged along because…Cris and Irial.” The popstar shrugged unapologetically and bent down so that Irial could whisper something in his ear, both of them devolving into giggles at whatever he’d said. Rosie and Cheryl shared an eye roll. Salem pointed to Israel. “I figured if we were already such a ridiculous number I might as well invite Israel.”

“Lemonades all around, then, I take it?” Irial inquired rather suddenly. Everyone nodded in agreement while Patrick gaped for a moment. Iri glanced at Israel who nodded once and slapped Patrick on the back of the head; Patrick nodded slowly in answer, and Irial grinned as he turned to Cris. “Great, okay, orders, orders,” he passed around a pad and pen, letting everyone write their orders down on it before passing it back to Cris and Irial who picked it up before stumbling out of the booth to the counter. “Swearsies, this is it?” Irial inquired.

“For fuck’s sake feed me!” Cheryl snapped.

“That’s quite enough out of you, Cherrie!” Irial returned.

Cris rolled his eyes and prodded Irial forward. “Never mind. If they’ve missed anything they’ll just have to starve like everyone else.”

“Solid parenting,” Irial nodded in consensus.

“Thank you, elf,” Cris laughed, wrapping an arm around Irial’s shoulders and marching him towards the counter.

“Right,” Rosie nodded, pointing a finger at Patrick. “This is about _you_.”

“Me?”

Bailey nodded sagely, “You, Patty.”

Patrick looked from Bailey to Salem and narrowed his eyes accusingly. “You _told_ him!”

Bailey’s eyes went wide as he looked over at Salem. Salem who didn’t seem the least bit surprised or cowed by Patrick’s comment. Israel, on the other hand, was up and out of hir seat in an instant. “Oh, I’ll go help Iri and Cris with those drinks. I’ll be back laters losers,” ze remarked as ze booked it. Rosie laughed as Harry and Cheryl nodded primly, watching hir go.

“He tells him everything,” Harry confided in answer to Patrick’s accusation.

Patrick turned to narrow his eyes on the man for a moment, taking him in. The first thing that Patrick thought was ‘stunning’ and the second was ‘holy fuck is this man hipster.’

Harold Benton-Sterling, as he’d been introduced offhandedly, had a boy-next-door look to him at first glance: gangly, lightly tanned, cinnamon hair and eyes to match. Maybe that was part of what made him so stunning, everything about him was warm and understated from his caramel skin with undertones of amber to his clothes that looked like he’d plucked them out of the nearest vintage shop. Flannel shirt, sweater vest, and a pair of skinny khakis tucked into a pair of ankle boots with a pair of glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Not even designer hipster fashion for someone who had to make a pretty decent amount considering what Harry did for a living.

“You work for Dissident Management?” Patrick raised his eyebrows at Harry, skeptically, doubtfully, blatantly uncomfortable.

Harry cocked his head and half-smiled, sharing a glance with Rosie. “I do. I work PR.”

“Oh. Hmm.” Patrick turned to Salem. “Why’d you invite _him_?”

Rosie narrowed her eyes on Patrick while Cheryl rested both hands flat on the table and leaned back in her seat, eyes wide as she looked at Patrick. Bailey pointed a finger at Patrick warningly. “Watch the tone,” Bailey snapped.

Salem nodded in agreement. “Don’t take your hatred of PR out on Harry.”

Patrick rolled his eyes as Israel, Irial, and Cris returned bearing drinks that they placed on the table, sliding into their seats and raising their eyebrows at the tension. Cris pursed his lips and sipped some of Irial’s lemonade. “Not all publicists are terrible. Harry’s the best publicist I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Cris,” Harry said gratefully.

Cris beamed brightly, “Don’t mention it, Harry.”

Rosie snorted, “He’s just saying that because you – ”

Harry swatted her abruptly, and Cheryl whirled her head around to glare at Rosie. Bailey and Salem exchanged a look of raised eyebrows and confusion. Cris and Irial just seemed bemused. Patrick leaned into Israel’s side and let hir throw an arm over his shoulder and clutch him close, dramatically.

“Yeah,” Cris drawled.

Irial nodded and finished, “That wasn’t weird.”

“Moving on,” Harry and Rosie said simultaneously and turned to Patrick.

Bailey, apparently deciding he’d had enough of small talk, cut straight through the bullshit. “What did you do to Charlie?”

The whole table fell silent as seven pairs of eyes focused on Patrick save for Salem who gave Bailey a long-suffering look that the footballer ignored pointedly. He lifted his hands and turned Salem’s head to face Patrick with two fingers and a wry grin on his lips. Salem frowned at Bailey before his eyes went back to Patrick, raising his eyebrows.

Patrick cleared his throat nervously as he looked at Salem. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course _I’ve_ talked to him,” Salem returned. “He’s not pissed off with _me_.”

“Rub it in,” Patrick nodded while Israel chuckled. Patrick swatted hir.

“ _I’ve_ talked to him,” Bailey put in brightly earning a glare from Patrick. Bailey smirked.

“Me too!” Irial added, earning a cocked head and raised eyebrows from both Patrick and Cris. He offered his boyfriend a toothy smile. “I mean…”

“Um-hm,” Cris nodded.

“Isn’t it time you got over that kiss?” Cheryl suggested.

“Like you got over Micah and Jocelyn’s PR relationship?”

Cheryl pressed her lips together and looked at Rosie who hid her laughter behind her hand unsuccessfully. Shaking his head, Harry sipped his lemonade as his eyes darted to back to Patrick who swallowed and bit his bottom lip, ducking his head. He remembered that kiss back when Irial’s anonymous alter ego had been outed by his own boyfriend during an interview; they’d been going through a rough patch and Charlie’s response to Patrick and Evelyn’s fledgling relationship had been heavy binge drinking and late nights clubbing.

The morning after the kiss had hit every press stand in the entire United Kingdom, Patrick had woken up to about a hundred phone calls from Charlie’s family members, his manager, his agent, his publicist, his assistant, and Patrick’s own as well asking several variations of ‘where is he,’ ‘what did you do,’ ‘what’s going on,’ but the only one from Salem had been an exasperated ‘you two assholes drive me in-fucking-sane.’ And, yes, Patrick could sympathize with that. Absolutely.

“He won’t answer any of my phone calls,” Patrick ground out.

“You blame him?” Salem asked slowly.

Patrick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No, but I still wish he’d let me explain.”

“Explain what? Why you lied to him for almost three years?” Bailey inquired incredulously.

Salem whacked him in the stomach, and Bailey held his hands up innocently. Israel rested hir head on Patrick’s shoulder, pinching his arm and nodding hir head in the direction of the waitstaff coming towards them with several plates. Cheryl raised her hands victoriously. “Food!”

They clamped their mouths shut and turned to smile gratefully at the Latino waitress who stilled when she got a good look at them all. She turned to the redheaded server behind her and looked between him and the table, gaping. His eyes locked onto to Bailey with shock, and Bailey shifted uncomfortably and gave a nervous finger wave to the man.

“You’re…” the girl started, pointing first to Cris, then to Irial and Cherrie, then to Patrick whose eyes widened. She looked faint. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

“We’re starving,” Cheryl whined.

“Find some chill, dude,” Israel remarked faintly.

Cheryl held up her hands innocently while Rosie leaned around Cheryl and nodded. “But we are. Starving, I mean.”

Cris smiled kindly, “Do you want a hug?”

“Oh my God, yes,” she said, tearing up. Cris nodded and got to his feet, wrapping her in a hug tightly before helping her take the plates and set them on the table while her male coworker still stared at Bailey.

Cris patted his shoulder. “He’s real. That’s Arthur Bailey. Do you need a minute?”

“Oh my yes,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Cris agreed while the waitress giggled. Cris winked at her as he sat down beside Irial. Harry leaned over and met Cris’s eyes, raising his eyebrows pointedly. Patrick narrowed his eyes as he watched Cris’s good humor fade as he sat and rested his back against the booth, shifting uncomfortably beside Irial like he suddenly didn’t know how to maneuver himself or position his body next to the man he was in love with. Harry grimaced as he sat back, and Rosie patted his thigh in wordless comfort as she tossed a peri chip into her mouth with an innocent expression.

The waitress and waiter scuttled away a moment later after suddenly turning a bright red under their manager’s narrowed eyes. Bailey and Salem eyed each other suspiciously as they pulled their peri chips to their chests and away from each other. Harry rolled his eyes at them and stole one of the chips off Salem’s plate while he was too busy being suspicious of Bailey. Rosie, Cheryl, Irial, and Cris laughed quietly.

Salem turned his attention back to Patrick. “Right. I mean _I_ knew you were full of shit. What kind of Irishman blacks out off of beer and weed to the point where they forget having sex with one of the most famous actors in the world?”

Irial and Israel snickered while Cris winced and nodded his head. “Oh yeah, just you.”

Patrick gave him a dark look, and Cris shrugged.

Israel shook hir head. “I can’t believe he believed your bullshit like… _really_?”

“Do you know why he broke up with you?”

Bailey’s eyes slid to Salem while he frowned, and Salem took a sip of his lemonade with a knowing smile on his lips. His eyes flickered up to meet Patrick’s. “Long distance? Better as friends?”

Patrick cocked his head and narrowed his eyes on Salem, confused by Salem’s words and attitude that seemed a stark contrast to the glint of understanding in his eye.

Slowly, Salem tipped his head in Bailey’s direction with a slight, wan smile on his lips. Patrick raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, wincing when he realized that Harry’s gaze, too shrewd and knowing, had landed on him with interest, curiosity, and a burgeoning suspicion.

Salem leaned forward, his interest piqued and a smiling curving his lips slightly. “I bet you thought you were doing the right thing, didn’t you? By lying? That everything would work out in the end? That you could keep up it until you found a way around it?” His eyebrows rose as he met Patrick’s gaze and held it seriously. “How’d that work out for you?”

“Konstantin,” Bailey admonished him.

Salem shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m not saying it to be an asshole, I’m saying it to make a point. You played the game the only way you knew how. You played the game wrong.”

Harry’s eyes lit with understanding, and he rested his fingers delicately on the tabletop. “To be fair,” he started, Patrick’s attention shifted to the publicist, “you’re – what? – twenty-one? Twenty-two?”

Patrick smiled thinly, “I’m twenty-four.”

Harry nodded in understanding while Irial raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, sharing a quick glance with Cris. “Twenty-four. You landed your first major acting job at eighteen in a film franchise based off a young adult fantasy series. You’re not straight, but you’re also not gay with a public girlfriend who fawns all over you and some sexy Irish accent and penchant for wearing leather so I bet no one’s ever seriously looked into your sexuality. Your agent’s super blasé. Manager’s a personal friend and only recently part of a company. Do you even _have_ a publicist?”

“Do I need one?” Patrick returned, cringing into Israel who sipped hir drink and glanced between them in amusement.

“Not necessarily,” Harry remarked. “It’s not as serious for actors as it is for singers. Your manager can probably handle your publicity outside film promo. My _point_ is that you don’t understand how to manipulate and scheme because: a) you’re a child in this industry and b) you’ve never had to.”

“ _Cris_ knows how to!” Patrick exclaimed.

Irial narrowed his eyes on Patrick while Cris nodded his head sagely.

Harry agreed, “Yes, but Cris is in a harshly managed, image-controlled boyband where he was forced into the closet at metaphorical gunpoint. Cris knows what he’s doing. You made a bad judgment call because you didn’t know how the industry worked. Not for someone like Cris or Charlie.”

“I realize I fucked up,” Patrick remarked, turning to Salem. “I just want a chance to explain.”

Salem grimaced and shared a quick glance with Bailey whose eyes widened as he nodded. Salem sighed, “He’s in San Francisco the rest of the week. They’re shooting in LA at the studio starting in June. You could probably catch up with him there. Maybe. You didn’t hear that from me.”

Patrick gave him a slight smile, and Salem rolled his eyes. Rosie snagged a piece of paper from her purse and hastily scribbled a name and number on it; Harry glanced down at it, frowned, but didn’t disagree with her as she slid it across the table towards him. Patrick’s eyebrows drew together as he read Harry’s name, glancing up at the PR maven who half-shrugged.

“You’ll probably need that. Call me when you’re ready.”

Salem glanced between Patrick and Harry as he sipped his lemonade. Israel saved the day by tossing a chip at Cris who caught it in hand, wiggling his eyebrows while ze narrowed hir eyes at him in a clear challenge. Patrick grinned and shook his head, tucking the number securely in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been awhile. Hi. Sorry I got very involved with my family, but now I'm back in London where it's cold and...surprisingly sunny today. I personally only have three more chapters to write of this story because 60 chapters has become the standard for me with these stories. And it gets crazy fairly soon. To the person who pleaded me to continue, thank you for getting my ass back in gear. I've been so lazy about updating. I'm going to try and update fairly regularly.


	18. "Hide Away" by Daya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the truth comes out

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@DevonRousse @MattyGeneHerald ate all my cupcakes D’:

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Back to LA XD #sunshineandsurfing

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Salem:** My mom says you’re being sadfaced.

**Charlie:** Tasha’s a lying liar who lies

**Salem:** I’ll add her to our Whatsapp chat so you can say that to her face?

**Charlie:** Damien said he’s coming to visit me in LA

**Salem:** Subtle change of subject.

**Salem:** Have you talked to your boy yet?

**Charlie:** Have you told Bailey you want to have his babies yet?

**Salem:** I’ll take that as a no.

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

Someone’s a pouty snappy prickly pear (@CharlieBeck)

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Salem_Daiki how are you being so annoying from Russia?

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck what are best friends for?

 

To: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

From: oliver.cole@silverskytalentmgmt.org

Subject: LA

Patrick,

Avery has informed me you’re running halfway across the world to woo your best friend or something of that nature. While you’re there – Paramount contacted me about a role you might be interested in. It’s another Batman reboot, but I figure it’s a little more dark and gritty and decidedly less Ben Affleck. I sent you the script. You should look into it and let me know if you want me to set up an audition.

ASAP.

Oliver Cole

 

To: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

From: kimuramichi@gmail.co.jp

Subject: So…

Does this super optimistic and way less than subtle plot twist between Kaede and Ridley mean what I think it means? Are you finally going to hook up with Charlie because my brother’s been whining about it nonstop for months…

Michi

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Grand gestures. This is the kind of thing that movie magic is made of…

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

@notthecountry you’re writing a movie???

* * *

Charlie pulled his motorcycle in the garage of his Hollywood Hills home as the sun had begun to set on the horizon, setting the sky aflame and painting the world in shades of reds, pinks, and purples.

The secluded three-story artisan home fifteen minutes from the city center and surrounded on all sides by trees and blissful privacy had been Charlie’s first official purchase of his own when he’d fled from his star-studded Beverly Hills party mansion that had seen him through his teen years. That home had been all glitz, glam, and legendary parties that Charlie had attended boozed up to his eyeballs and half-high off of the attendees clouds of marijuana while his guardian had been giving blowjobs in exchange for five minutes of fame behind the pool house.

His current LA home might be no less posh and glam, but it was warm, inviting, and locked down as tight as Fort Knox. Not even the paparazzi had bothered to follow him out of the city center and into the Hollywood Hills to his gated compound. Every time they faded away into the distance as he wound his way among the twisting streets, Charlie felt a weight fall from his shoulders, and every time he parked his ridiculous Lamborghini motorcycle in the driveway and his eyes looked out over the view of downtown Los Angeles with the sea glistening in the distance, he felt himself breathe.

Charlie had never had a problem being in front of the cameras, been conditioned for it since his early childhood, but his space was unequivocally his own. It still rankled when said space was encroached upon with a few notable exceptions that did not necessarily pertain to his family either.

Running a hand through his hair, Charlie unlocked the door and made his way inside, freezing in the mudroom when the low hum of music reached his ears.

A normal person might have been worried about that.

A normal _celebrity_ might have considered a stalker and called their bodyguard.

Charlie shrugged off his leather jacket and hung it on the peg, tossing his keys on the counter, and toeing off his boots as he made his way through the hallway towards the sound. The scent of cooking meat and boiling pasta had him relaxing just slightly as he entered the kitchen, not even the slightest bit surprised to find Patrick at his counter, barefoot and bare-chested singing along to Coldplay while frowning down at whatever he had cooking in the pan.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Charlie cleared his throat, his heart leaping into his throat and hope welling inside him that he stamped out with extreme prejudice.

If the last three years had proven anything, it was that hope could be as damaging as its absence. Maybe even more so, and Charlie didn’t have it in him to be so badly hurt by this man again.

Patrick startled, freezing at the stove as he looked at Charlie with wide-eyes and an uncertain smile.

Charlie nodded, “You’re in LA.”

“So it would appear,” Patrick returned evenly.

“You’re in my house,” he continued.

“I figured that’s why you gave me a key.”

That he couldn’t argue with. Instead, he cleared his throat anxiously and nodded at the pan. “You’re cooking.”

“Was that a question?”

Padding over the tiled floor, Charlie leaned against the island and watched silently for a moment while Patrick turned back to his cooking. He watched the muscles in his back flex as he moved, and Charlie swallowed, biting his bottom lip and looking out the window pointedly. “What are you cooking?”

“Veal parmesan.”

“Fancy,” Charlie hummed.

“Apology meals usually are.”

“Is that what this is?”

Patrick turned around to give Charlie a haggard look, and Charlie nodded his head slowly, pushing off the island and eyeing the cooking filets in the pan distrustfully. Patrick quirked an eyebrow, and Charlie cleared his throat uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest and narrowing his eyes on Patrick.

“I don’t like spaghetti.”

“It’s only been two months, Chaz,” Patrick replied lightly, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t forget that you don’t like stringy pasta. I made penne.”

Running his shaking fingers through his hair and biting the inside of his cheek, Charlie nodded once more, tears welling in his eyes. Patrick sighed and took a step towards him. Charlie moved back, keeping distance between them and holding up a hand to ward him off. He knew himself well enough to know that he’d break and melt if Patrick touched him, held him, spoke to him in that soft, apologetic tone that he’d been hearing for years without understanding the context behind it the way he did now.

Years that Charlie had been manipulated and lied to that he couldn’t and didn’t want to forget. He couldn’t afford to just melt in Patrick’s arms, not until they’d hammered out just what exactly had happened between them and why. Charlie needed to trust Patrick.

And right now, he didn’t.

“Right,” Charlie nodded carefully. “Let me get changed, and we’ll eat on the terrace, yeah?”

“The couches?”

Charlie nodded slowly, pressing his lips together as he looked over Patrick. He hesitated in the doorway. “I…” Patrick turned back to look at him expectantly, waiting for whatever Charlie had to say, but he chickened out last minute. “Salad. Do you…?”

“I can make Caesar salad,” Patrick nodded with a slight smile.

“Great,” Charlie agreed awkwardly.

“And Chaz,” he turned and met Patrick’s eyes, sparkling with sincerity as he said, “no more lies. I promise.”

Charlie paled and nodded, slipping into the hallway and forcing himself to calm down. He pulled out his phone and rattled off a quick text to Salem as he climbed the stairs, knowing his best friend’s meddlesome ways well enough to know the culprit behind Patrick’s impromptu appearance in LA.

**Charlie:** You sent him did you heathen?

**Salem:** Do you know what time it is here??????

Rolling his eyes, Charlie tossed his phone onto his bedside table and ran his hands over his face. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. He needed to get himself under control, but if two months and some nine thousand kilometers between them hadn’t managed to help him, Charlie doubted his bikram yoga breathing exercises would help. Maybe he just needed to hear Patrick out. Maybe he had a good explanation.

_Maybe I need a clean break from all this bullshit._

Maybe.

The problem with a clean break was that he didn’t necessarily want one even if he might need one. As angry and betrayed and hurt as he felt towards Patrick, Charlie still _wanted_ him. He wanted to talk to him, cuddle with him, be around him and kiss him. A clean break wasn’t possible when everything about Patrick still called to Charlie like a siren song he could never quite run away from, that he wasn’t fighting altogether too hard to free himself from.

Instead of dwelling on it, Charlie reached for his phone again and sent Tasha a quick message, tattle-telling making him feel just a little bit better in the long run.

**Charlie:** Tasha, Sale’s meddling in my love life again

Pulling on a pair of threadbare sweatpants he knew instinctively belonged to Patrick, a tank top, and a beanie, Charlie grinned at the pair of messages that came simultaneously.

**Tasha:** My son the hypocrite. I’ll scalp him for you Chazza.

**Salem:** You told my mother? The betrayal! It stings!

Shaking his head and hesitating in the doorway, Charlie tucked the phone back into his pocket and peered out the window of the doors at where Patrick had settled onto one of the sofas, two plates of veal parmesan, a bowl of penne, and a salad bowl on the table along with two glasses of wine. Patrick sat cross-legged and still bare-chested on the sofa with a surprising lack of cigarettes or marijuana and his mobile phone in hand.

Taking a breath and steeling himself, he opened the door and stepped onto the balcony.

Immediately, Patrick’s gaze moved from his mobile phone to Charlie, a soft smile playing on his lips as they met eyes. Charlie blushed and quickly ducked his head, plopping down on the sofa across from Patrick and swallowing a gulp of his wine. _Fuck it’s awkward_. It hadn’t been this awkward between them since…well, since Patrick had first lied about forgetting they’d screwed at Warped Tour.

There was something poetic in that, Charlie thought uncomfortably.

“Where’s my girl?” Charlie inquired, raising his eyebrows at Patrick over the rim of his glass.

“Being spoiled rotten by Aaron’s daughter, Sylvia,” Patrick informed Charlie wryly.

Charlie nodded, pursing his lips as his eyes stayed locked on Patrick who turned off his phone definitively and cut into his veal, the silence between them deafening. The gritty, Indie-pop sound of Halsey’s _Badlands_ played in the background as the sun went down on the horizon, and they ate without speaking to each other, glancing and staring when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

“You didn’t overcook the veal this time,” Charlie offered tentatively.

Patrick half-smiled at him and shrugged modestly, “I think the overdose of mozzarella is just effectively hiding my failure.”

“If I get a tapeworm, we’ll know.”

Cocking his head and frowning, Patrick hedged carefully, “I thought that was from primarily raw pork.”

“How would you know? When’s the last time _you_ had a tapeworm?” Charlie challenged.

Patrick laughed, “The same time _you_ last had one.”

Charlie and Patrick’s eyes met, and Charlie pressed his lips together failing a suppressing a smile until they’d devolved into hysterical laughter over absurd medical issues and veal parmesan. When Charlie finally managed to catch his breath, he leaned his head back, a smile still on his lips as his eyes took his the man he loved who’d been avoiding (but also still stalking on social media) for the last two months.

He looked good, rugged and scruffy the way he so often did when he didn’t have to primp and prim for work with his smattering of chest hair over his sculpted chest, a five o’clock shadow on his jaw, and his dark hair overgrown and falling into his eyes as it grew any which way it wanted. Gorgeous. Sexy. Charlie wanted him desperately.

He needed to get a grip.

Patrick’s dark eyes met his.

“Why did you lie to me?” Charlie blurted out brokenly, the words deceptively soft.

Sighing, Patrick brushed his fringe out of his eyes and downed the rest of his wine anxiously. “I…” he grimaced and shook his head, “I didn’t _want_ to Charlie. It’s a lot more complicated than what you said in New York, okay? I didn’t _want_ to lie to you. I didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“Then why did it?” Charlie demanded, sitting him and narrowing his eyes on him. “You can’t do that, Patty. You can’t tell me you can explain and that I don’t understand what happened and then _not explain what happened_. I trusted you. I was in love with you. For _years_. And you _knew_. And you knew we slept together years ago, and you thought it was fine keeping all of those things from me for years? Parading Evelyn around in front of me. Are you serious?”

Patrick scowled, “Evelyn was…a mistake.”

“No shit,” Charlie intoned dryly.

He shrugged, “I’ve always been a bit of an idiot in relationships. I dated Evelyn to forget about you. It didn’t work, but it kept me from blurring lines between our relationship. Lines I needed to keep in place for my own peace of mind.”

“You’re not making any sense.” _And you’re kind of pissing me off_ more, Charlie just about managed to refrain from saying, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Patrick grimaced. “Evelyn and I broke up.”

Charlie knew that. They’d ‘broken up’ so many times in the tabloids that Charlie had scoured Tumblr and Twitter for more information before finally just breaking down and calling Israel for the real story.

“Israel told me,” Charlie nodded. Patrick bit his lip nervously, and Charlie sighed, “If you’re not going to tell me why did you even bother coming here?”

“I would have come _anyway_ ,” Patrick snapped defensively, “because you’re my best friend no matter what idiotic nonsense I’ve gotten us both into, Chaz.”

“Don’t let Israel hear that,” Charlie muttered uncomfortably.

Patrick huffed and studied Charlie seriously. “Now who’s stalling?”

Fair enough.

The longer Patrick put this off, the more ill-at-ease Charlie felt about it. Did he _want_ to know? Did he _need_ to know? They might live in a world where people would rather be drowned in a sea of useless over-information than be parched by the lack of it, but Charlie didn’t _need_ to know _everything_ , did he?

He wasn’t Salem, after all.

“You lied to me about how old you were, Chaz,” Patrick admitted quietly. _That_ startled him, because, yes, he had…ages ago. Charlie opened his mouth to snap about that when Patrick cut him off, shaking his head. “That’s why I lied originally, when I met you again at the studio for our table-read, because you were seventeen and I was twenty-one, and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal regardless of whether or not we were both drunk at the time and you were emancipated. That’s all it was…originally.”

Patrick went to take a drink from his glass, pausing and frowning when he realized it was empty. Sighing, he set it aside, and Charlie offered his wordlessly. Charlie popped a crouton in his mouth while Patrick took a long, large swallow of the wine, grimacing and narrowing his eyes on the city lights in the distance.

“I was going to tell you, Chaz,” Patrick whispered with a weak smile and a shake of his head. Self-deprecating. Almost bitter. It seemed out-of-place on Patrick and altogether shocking given everything that had gone through Charlie’s mind about what would have prompted Patrick to hide something of this magnitude from him. “I wanted…well, it doesn’t matter what I wanted, does it? Not now, anyway. But I had plans to tell you, after your birthday, especially when you got back from whatever happened in Boston that Christmas. You were upset for a while, but better than before, I think.”

Charlie winced and tugged at one of the curls poking out of his beanie anxiously. The last thing he wanted to talk about with _anyone_ was what happened when he’d visited Salem in Boston that year. Neither of them had told anyone. _That_ had been the pact that they’d agreed to, and regardless of anything going on with them, they’d stuck with it.

“Then why _didn’t_ you? What happened that made me suddenly not good enough to date?”

Patrick shook his head and gave Charlie a sharp look. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I just didn’t want to make things more difficult for you than they already were.”

“What does that _mean_ , Patrick? Stop being fucking cryptic and just tell me!”

“I know what happened, Chaz.”

Charlie stilled and frowned, shaking his head automatically.

Patrick offered him a weak smile. “I know why you broke up with Salem. The _real_ reason.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So remember a few chapters ago when I said 'this is the last flashback' I lied. The next chapter is the last flashback.


	19. "Love Me Or Leave Me" by Little Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2016: Or why it all went down the way it did

**Charlie Beck steps out with Ani Tiernan as Chatrick rumors heat up**

_Ethereal_ ’s Charlie Beck has been spotted around London with singer/songwriter and perpetual party-girl, Ani Tiernan. Tiernan, whose album drops this April, has been linked to several high profile celebrities including Breaking Fourth’s Benji Irving and now, it seems, has moved onto Hollywood royalty. The pair’s tumultuous and, sources say, passionate relationship is not without it’s controversy as fans of Charlie’s infamous bromance with best mate and costar, Patrick Gallagher, has inspired a shocking number of fiction and shippers who think the two might be more than just friends. The debate only grew more heated when a source close to the Irish-born actor admitted “[Patrick] doesn’t like [Ani]. He certainly doesn’t like that Charlie’s been hanging out with her so much. He thinks she’s a bad influence whose only going to get Charlie into trouble.” When asked about his dislike of Ani and Charlie’s relationship of Dorian Speaks, the actor’s only response was that he had ‘no desire to talk about it. At all.’ There’s certainly tension there, but we’re more excited to see if Ani can get Charlie into some scandalous situations for us to salivate over.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ has embarked on the harsh road into parenthood with me #friendshipgoals

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck it’s a puppy not a child. That doesn’t count.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@13poppies it definitely does.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Charliebeck @13poppies play nice children

 

**Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher adopt…a puppy**

_Ethereal_ stars, Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher, took Instagram and Twitter by storm today when they posted a photo of a three-legged Alaskan Klee Kai puppy that they reportedly adopted together while filming the season one finale of _Ethereal_ in Atlanta, Georgia. Beck is scheduled to begin shooting _Angelfall_ in San Francisco at the beginning of April but has apparently dedicated the last couple days to getting their new family member comfortable in their million-dollar mansion in London’s Belsize Park. Their impromptu purchase has only fueled debate about the pair’s unorthodox and close relationship.

 

**Text message from Luka the Hun**

**Luka the Hun:** You adopted a dog with him?

**Luka the Hun:** You adopted a dog with your best friend?

**Luka the Hun:** Have you even been reading the articles about the pair of you?

**Charlie:** Would you relax?

**Charlie:** In less than a week everyone on planet earth will think I’m screwing my costar

**Charlie:** You need to calm down Luka

**Luka the Hun:** You need to take this more seriously.

**Luka the Hun:** This is your career on the line.

**Charlie:** Do you even talk to Elijah?

**Charlie:** Adopting a puppy hasn’t seemed to hurt me career. You’re catastrophizing. Chill.

* * *

“Did you pack your Saint Lauren leather boots?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re favorite Burberry jumper?”

“Yes, Patty.” Charlie poked his head out of the bathroom with a broad, easy grin and amusement lurking in the depths of his sapphire eyes. “I have a _house_ in LA, you know. I won’t be lost if I forget something. Besides, you can always mail it to me.”

“Umhm,” Patrick remarked skeptically from where he sprawled across Charlie’s bed with Snow laying close beside him. Re-runs of _Ethereal_ played across the television and cartoons of Indian takeaway were spread across the room, drawing the mournful, longing gaze of Snow whenever she seemed to catch a whiff of the curry. Patrick’s eyes roved over the expanse of golden skin pulled taut over defined muscles, and he felt his dick twitch in interest.

Not yet.

They still needed to talk about their cloying sexual tension, and Charlie’s habit of fudging his actual age before seducing people. Definitely. Absolutely. Soon. Before Charlie left, if Patrick had his way.

Patrick leaned his head on his arm and watched with a soft smile as Charlie gnawed on his bottom lip as he held up a hibiscus print shirt and a green flannel one bleached at the bottom that looked a bit like it was on fire. Really, Patrick thought Charlie was wildly overthinking what he wanted to wear to this party, but Charlie, he supposed, had been raised by a fashion designer, a model, and a man for whom appearance was everything. Patrick could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Charlie in anything remotely resembling casual, even in their own home. Half the time Charlie chilled out in hundred pound silk pajama bottoms.

Irritated, Charlie whirled around and held the shirts up for Patrick who raised his eyebrows while Snow sat up, ear raised in attention. “The flower McQueen shirt or the Saint Laurent bleached flannel?” Charlie demanded.

“Did you remember your Dolce & Gabbana cologne?” Patrick remembered suddenly.

Charlie stilled for a minute before tossing both shirts onto the counter and cursing. He grabbed the bottle of the counter and tossed it into his open suitcase while Patrick watched, bemused.

“And the flannel. It’s more casual, I think.”

Snorting, Charlie tossed the Alexander McQueen shirt onto the bed next to Snow who sniffed it curiously as he pulled on the flannel, leaving it half unbuttoned as he stalked out of the bathroom, ruffling his hair and over to his closet. “It can’t really get more casual than you, Trick.”

“Excuse you,” Patrick huffed, “I’ll have you know this whole outfit is Alexander McQueen.”

Charlie rolled his eyes as he pulled on his boots. “First of all, I know because those are _my_ jeans and my sister bought you that sneakers.” Patrick pursed his lips and frowned down at the skull slip-on sneakers on his feet while Charlie continued, coming over to stand in front of Patrick, running one hand through his hair while the other reached down to pet the dog who perked up excitedly at the attention. “And secondly, that doesn’t make your jeans-and-t-shirt ensemble any less casual.”

“It’s an after party. Not an award show.”

“You’d wear that to an award show.”

“Yeah,” Patrick admitted, “but I’d pull a blazer over it.”

Charlie laughed and shook his head, tugging a beanie down over his hair and kissing Snow on the nose. “Shall we go, then? Wouldn’t want to keep Evelyn waiting.”

Patrick groaned.

Evelyn was…much.

The model-turned-actress had been an obvious flirt from the start, but she’d set her sights on Patrick with a single-minded focus that made Patrick uncomfortable and Charlie amused. Patrick had a feeling Charlie would be considerably less amused if he ever reciprocated any of Evelyn’s less than professional interest in him, but for the time being, Charlie seemed content to tease relentlessly.

“Can we not make jokes about that,” Patrick pouted. “It’s getting absurd.”

“She’s got a crush,” Charlie returned as Patrick sat up and flicked off the television. He whistled once, and Snow had leapt off the bed and trotted over to him, her tailing wagging so frantically Patrick worried she’d fall over.

They found Aaron seated at their kitchen island by the time they made it downstairs, his phone in one hand and a frown on his face as he sent a text message. Charlie and Patrick exchanged a quick glance while Charlie fed Snow, and Patrick sidled up beside Aaron with a grin.

“Alright, Aaron?”

Aaron sighed and dropped his head on the table. “No one told me children would be so hard.”

“I thought that was what television was for,” Patrick said.

Aaron shot him a venomous look while Charlie sighed and threw an arm around Aaron’s neck. “Ignore the Irishman. What’s wrong, then?”

“My baby girl’s got a crush,” Aaron groaned. “And Hannah thinks it’s cute, but it’s not.”

“I remember my first crush,” Patrick mused while Charlie grimaced and nodded, flinching like he’d been hit. Patrick frowned at him, but Charlie just shook his head and pointedly turned away. Trying to ignore the uneasy feeling, Patrick turned to Aaron. “Not fondly, mind you, but I do remember it.”

Aaron snorted, and Charlie recovered enough from his reminiscing to ask, “Who on?”

“Maverick.”

“Is that all?” Charlie waved a hand dismissively. Aaron glared at him, and Charlie shrugged. “At least you know it’s not going to happen.”

“Gigi Hadid and Joe Jonas happened,” Patrick pointed out.

Charlie gave him a strange look, “Did they really, though?” Patrick hesitated, taken aback by that, and Charlie turned his attention back to Aaron with a reassuring smile and a pat on the back. “I think I’m going to have to go with Hannah on this one, mate. It’s adorable, actually. I mean if she likes the hot mess, bad boy types, you’d best watch out when she gets older, but she’s _seven_ and unlikely to actually meet someone nearly three times her age to seduce him.”

Aaron groaned, “Please don’t say my daughter and seduce in the same sentence.” Patrick laughed while Charlie held up his hands innocently with a stifled grin that his dimples popping out. Aaron shook his head and got to his feet. “The pair of you are no help at all. God help the day you have children.”

Patrick’s eyes widened, and he covered his ears, “Oh my God, no children!”

Charlie laughed delightedly and bowled into him, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s middle and pressing his forehead against Patrick’s jaw. Aaron watched them affectionately, shaking his head and patting Snow’s head in greeting. “Off we go. Xavier’s called about three hundred times. Apparently he’s getting antsy.”

Charlie groaned and pouted up at Patrick, “I thought this was supposed to be fun?”

* * *

 

Halfway through the night, Patrick felt inclined to agree with Charlie’s ‘this isn’t fun’ sentiment when he’d had Evelyn hanging off him all night while Charlie flitted from person to person all charming grins, dimpled smiles, and flirtatious laughter as he effortlessly attracted each and every person in attendance. Despite his blatant discomfort with having his manager and publicist in attendance, Charlie shone in his usual golden glow, gaining admirers and acolytes the way Leonardo Dicaprio gained memes about his collection of un-won Oscar nominations.

Charlie, of course, was also buzzed out of his mind if his glazed eyes, dreamy smile, booze-induced giggle, and collection of mojitos was anything to go by. He’d been steadily sliding into an alcohol blitz since Luka and Xavier had met him at the back door to the club with smiles that bordered on predatory, walking straight up to the bar and ordering rum and coke only to toss it back under his manager’s watchful eye within seconds. Patrick had cut him off after the third.

Then Ani Tiernan had shown up to the party half-naked, covered in glittery-makeup, and made a beeline towards Charlie with paparazzi in tow.

Patrick had bought him the mojito without a word when he’d sidled up to the bar and let Charlie buildup his tab while he avoided what Patrick was starting to suspect he’d been brought to the club to do: stunt.

A shame, really, since the post-wrap party was _supposed_ to be fun and watching Charlie pretend to not be miserable wasn’t particularly fun for anybody.

Patrick down the rest of his Scotch and wondered idly if it was too early to crack out his marijuana as he listened to Evelyn prattle on about what her brother, Nick, was doing in America interning with some television station in the hopes of becoming the next Ellen Degeneres or Jonathon Ross. And, honestly, Patrick couldn’t help but be obnoxiously proud that he’d managed to both glean and retain that much information when he’d been paying next to no attention to the words coming out of her mouth.

“What? Am I too good for you to greet now, Patrick Gallagher?” A new voice interrupted Evelyn who grimaced automatically before instantly smoothing over the expression with a smile.

_Really, what the fuck happened between Israel and Evelyn?_

Israel appeared with Taylor in tow, a cosmopolitan dangling from both their fingertips, and a sneer on hir lips as she looked at Evelyn. Taylor rolled her eyes at the pair of them and ignored Patrick entirely as she finished her drink and set it down at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye as Israel and Evelyn exchanged forced greetings. “Just a club soda, please,” Taylor ordered, side-eyeing Patrick and nodding once, tersely.

Evelyn touched Patrick’s arm, startling him, and smiled flirtatiously, “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Patrick remarked, watching with raised eyebrows as she tossed Israel a thin smile and sauntered off. Israel rolled hir eyes, and Patrick grinned at hir. “Where’s your girl?”

“On tour,” Israel lamented. Patrick raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Israel waved a dismissive hand. “She’s a stylist.”

“Oh,” Patrick nodded.

“For Azadi,” Taylor added for Patrick’s benefit.

“Oh.” Patrick said, looking to Israel in surprise. Israel shrugged. “So Jazz is good then?”

“Good is relative,” Israel remarked tritely.

Taylor glared at Israel. “Oh stop being a bitch, Is.”

Israel stuck hir tongue out at Taylor and turned to Patrick. “What can I say? I’m lovesick?”

“Yeah, okay,” Patrick snorted skeptically.

Israel smirked, “Okay, my script’s been giving me trouble.”

“And by ‘script’ I assume you mean ‘studio,’” Patrick pointed out while Taylor nodded in agreement.

Israel glowered. “Tight-ass, homophobic suits. If they honestly thought they’d get away with me just _alluding_ to a past relationship between Naoise and Killian, then they’re in serious denial. Endgame, my friend. Naoise and Killian are absolutely endgame.”

“Everyone knows that,” Taylor pointed out. “Your endgame relationships are horrifically transparent.”

“Lies!” Israel declared while Taylor raised her eyebrows. Ze smiled timidly and waved a hand dismissively, turning to Patrick. “You know what’s transparent? How fucking miserable your boy is? Haven’t been giving him good enough cock?”

Taylor choked on her drink, and Patrick gave Israel a droll look before plucking the cosmopolitan from hir fingers and handing it to Taylor. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“Am I wrong, though?”

“We’re not sleeping together,” Patrick told her.

“Boo!” Israel exclaimed, “Why the fuck not?”

“Haven’t told him about your massive crush on him?” Taylor inquired, patting Patrick’s shoulder sympathetically.

Patrick narrowed his eyes on Taylor. “That’s rich coming from the woman who’s been wetting her lace panties at the sight of Jeremy Bixton from the lighting department for _months_ and hasn’t said anything.”

Israel’s eyes widened, and ze mouthed ‘ooh’ while Taylor crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Patrick. “I forgot when _my_ dating life became any of _your_ business, Gallagher.”

Patrick shrugged, “Around the same time mine did.”

Taylor’s look grew more poisonous, and Israel stepped between them, hir body tensing at how close in quarters ze was to them. Both Taylor and Patrick took an automatic two steps back and watched as Israel relaxed minutely, relieved by the distance. With an uneasy smile, Israel tapped hir finger on the counter of the bar before pointing between the pair of them. Ze stilled suddenly, hir eyes focused on something over Patrick’s shoulder. “You might wanna go check on your boy. He looks like his ass is getting handed to him by his team.”

Patrick whirled his head around to find Charlie, arms crossed over his chest and face dark as he stared at Xavier Wilson defiantly. Without another word he started through the crowd towards them, just managing to hear Taylor say to Israel, “Those fuckers never let him have any _legitimate_ fun, do they?”

Whatever Charlie said had Xavier looking around wildly before prodding him down a hallway, and Patrick frowned and followed while Luka Abrami sighed and rolled his eyes.

“…is wrong with you, Charlie? We had a deal, you knew this! You _agreed_ to it!” Xavier snapped angrily.

Patrick stilled far enough away to hear everything, but not close enough to attract attention.

“Yeah, because you cornered me into it,” Charlie hissed, alcohol removing any of the carefully cultivated facades and artful manipulations he’d otherwise spin. The level of misery, fury, and honesty in those words unsettled Patrick.

Luka huffed, “We ‘cornered’ you. Okay. You do this all the time, Charlie.”

“Why are you so determined to make us into the enemy, Charlie? We’ve known you since you were a child. All we want to do is protect you.”

“All you want to do is closet me because you have a stake percentage in my success. Success that you’re worried won’t be as goddamn successful if I came out. Let’s not lie to each other. I’m _way_ too drunk for that.”

Patrick frowned.

“ _Protect you_ ,” Xavier enunciated. “From _yourself_. What do you think would happen if you came out? You’re not Neil Patrick Harris, Charlie. You’re a blond, muscled, former Disney sensation turned action movie star. You don’t get to be gay. They’d tear you apart.”

“You don’t know that,” Charlie said weakly.

_No, they_ don’t _know that. Don’t let them talk you into thinking this is okay, Chaz_. Patrick thought to himself, glaring down the hallway as he watched Charlie slowly start to shrink into himself.

“Yes,” Luka started, “we do. You’re too famous, too typecast, and too big of a household name to fade into obscurity. It’d be a scandal. You’d be destroyed. And maybe some actors would be content making little Indie flicks for film festivals, but _you’re_ not and you wouldn’t.”

Charlie swallowed and crossed his arms over his chest, frowning down at his feet. _Don’t listen to them, Chaz. They’re talking out their asses. They don’t know anything_.

“You need to stop being drunk and miserable every time you’re seen out with a woman. It’s getting ridiculous. You act like we’re forcing you to do this. Like you want to deal with the press blitz and scandal that would come along with one of the biggest actors of your generation coming out as gay _before_ you’ve even _hit_ your prime. You _know_ you don’t want that. Just like you know we don’t _corner_ you into anything. We ask. You agree, because you know that we know what’s best for your career.”

_Are you for fucking real asshole?_ Patrick wondered if he could kill a man with the strength of his glares, and if not when that could be a thing that someone could invent so he could end Xavier – manipulative little douchebag Xavier – here and now. Salem would help. Probably.

Charlie seemed to gain some life at that, his head lifting to glare malevolently at Xavier. “Do you? You’re here to ‘look out for me.’ You don’t ‘corner me’ into anything? Because _I_ threatened to tell the press that Salem hacks for Anonymous to pay for university, right? That must have been me since that’s something I would absolutely do for the good of my career, right? Get an eighteen-year-old arrested on international cybercrimes charges. An eighteen-year-old I was in love with?” He challenged.

Patrick reeled.

It wasn’t rocket science to link Salem to some kind of shady enterprise. The man literally had piles of money that didn’t come with any job that he paid taxes for, and with his computer skills, it didn’t take much of a leap to figure out how he’d make that kind of money, but Patrick hadn’t know that Xavier and Luka had been interested enough to know about Salem’s extracurriculars. He also hadn’t expected that they’d twist Charlie’s arm using his innate weakness towards Salem to make him comply.

In hindsight, Patrick should have seen that coming.

“You’re confusing a warning for a threat, Charlie. We did what we di to keep both of you safe. Salem wouldn’t do well in international prison,” Xavier retorted with a sickly sweet kindness that Charlie and Patrick both sneering at him.

“You’re full of shit,” Charlie snapped furiously. “No one knew about Salem. No one cared about a no-name university student in Boston. No one would have looked twice at him.”

“Except your fans if they thought you were dating him,” Luka pointed out.

Charlie winced and looked away. Patrick shook his head. _They’re still full of shit, Charlie. They literally get paid to kill stories like those. Rumors like those. No one should have known a damn thing if they’d done their job the way they were supposed to._

Luka took a step closer to Charlie who look up at him, angry. “You want to give random men blowjobs in club bathrooms? Fine. You want to screw some nameless, faceless nobody at award show after parties? Fine. You want to get your dick sucked by some drunk frat boy at a bar? Fine. The problem is when you start parading them around and making them recognizable. Everyone has secrets, and your partner’s secrets become _yours_. We didn’t ‘threaten’ you. We gave you the facts. _You_ chose to do the right thing and protect your boyfriend from being arrested by Interpol for international felonies. Just like you chose to agree to stunt and keep your dick away from Patrick Gallagher so we didn’t have to intervene in his life.”

“We don’t want to make your life difficult, but you’re proving rather capable of doing that yourself, don’t you think?” Xavier asked archly.

Patrick’s mind turned over the words in shock and confusion.

They _what_?

Charlie had agreed _what_?

It made sense, he supposed, in an abstract way. Charlie went to the ends of the earth to protect the people he loved, even, it would seem, at his own expense. He wasn’t sure what they’d said to get Charlie to swear off and away from Patrick, but it didn’t matter, not really. Someone needed to keep Charlie safe, and maybe that meant holding onto the lie. Maybe that meant hurting both of them, keeping his head down and his mouth shut when all he wanted to do was hold Charlie closer.

Patrick turned around and made his way back to the bar, forcing himself not to go check on Charlie with Xavier and Luka watching their every move. Instead, he sidled up to Evelyn, placing a hand on her lower back and smiling charmingly when she startled and met his eyes. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Maybe, with any luck, it would stop hurting when Charlie looked at him with the sting of betrayal in the back of his gaze as he looked between Patrick and Evelyn.

He really rather doubted it, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been such a bum about updating. My bad, but you finally get to find out why everyone got to the point they got to.


	20. "Roses" by The Chainsmokers ft. Rozes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they get it together...sort of

**Interview with Patrick Gallagher and Evelyn Merritt**

**Interviewer:** You guys are moving into season four of _Ethereal_. How do you feel about it?

**Evelyn:** Good, I think. It’s been a bit of a whirlwind between this season and last.

**Interviewer:** I can imagine. We thought the midseason finale was shocking, but suddenly we’ve got your dragon shape-shifting into a human, a coup against Naoise, Killian finding out he’s a prince and getting stabbed, Ciara being kidnapped by her aunt, Brody going into bloodlust. So much!

**Patrick:** The end of last season definitely changed the game. The midseason finale laid the groundwork. It was shocking, for sure, but the finale really set the final wheels in motion. Everything’s changed. Equilibrium’s gone. Every move made by every character, I’d say, has to come with some degree of hesitancy. Nothing’s assured anymore.

**Evelyn:** The entire world they knew is gone. They’re right on the cusp of this big shift in the political and social topography of their whole world. Nothing’s safe anymore.

**Interviewer:** And speaking of last season on a more personal note, the pair of you ended your two year relationship at the end of the year. Any thing going to change about that?

**Patrick:** Wow, no comment.

**Evelyn:** We’re capable of maintain a professional relationship, but that’s really it.

**Patrick:** What happened a few months ago changed the topography of _our_ relationship. We aren’t who we thought we were, and we’re better apart than together. That’s not going to change.

 

**Brodeyrn’s my shit (@smilingsaintcecilia)**

Omg I met @CharlieBeck and @StPatty_ at the Museum of Death!!!!!!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@smilingsaintcecilia I’d say it was a holy experience…#getit #yourtwitterhandle

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ you’re so ridiculously lame #howarewefriends

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** I got the part!!!!!!!!

**Charlie:** Ok…(want 2 clue me in?)

**Patrick:** I auditioned to play the Joker in a Batman reboot!!!!!

**Charlie:** Omg love congrats <3 ^.^

 

**loveintimesofchatrick**

Ok but they’re in LA being domestic together

**supernaturalethereal**

Ok but that doesn’t mean they’re together

**loveintimesofchatrick**

Literally no one said THAT except YOU

#i was just making an observation #you’re the one that went there

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@DevonRousse I hope you know that last time I made pudding someone got food poisoning #sorry

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

It would so happen that it rains the day I come back to London #weatherproblems

* * *

Salem sat cross-legged on the weight bench, completely ignoring the sour look some brawny, muscled Polynesia man sent him, with a bottle of overpriced imported Gatorade in one hand and a chocolate covered Granola bar in the other. Charlie half-smiled and shook his head pushed up the bar of the chest press while Salem waved cheerfully at one of the gym’s trainers who eyed him skeptically but didn’t kick him off the machine he’d turned into a glorified picnic bench. His smile dropped as he turned back to Charlie, crooking a pierced eyebrow.

Kismet Fitness, Charlie’s gym of choice since he’d wandered in on orders from his agent, was one of his favorite places in the city despite the sheer number of celebrities and professional athletes that attracted paparazzi and fans alike like flies to honey.

That was primarily because the four-story monster of a gym with Krav Maga class, studio space, and a pool had been opened by several Israeli-Jews who’d emigrated to the UK from Israel after getting out of the IDF, one of which included Tal Roland who’d married Chelsea Football Club’s Benjamin Roland. It was a mix of a hardcore workout regime and a relaxed atmosphere that simultaneously put Charlie on edge and at ease from the moment he stepped inside.

Everything felt sleek, cold, and industrial with concrete floors, industrial lighting, and lots of metal instead of ‘pow in-your-face’ color schemes that made him feel like he’d wandered into some kind of teen club with the reds and purples. Dragging Salem there before noon on a Sunday might actually end up being the single greatest achievement of Charlie’s life. And given the shock evident on Bailey’s face when Salem had grudgingly agreed to meet him there, the footballer agreed.

Bailey wandered over from where he’d been sprinting on the treadmill, chest heaving, his hair pushed back with a thin headband, and his light brown skin glistening with sweat. Straddling the end of the bench, Bailey plopped down beside Salem and gulped down several swallows of his water while Salem watched him with a strange combination of blatant lust and lips curled in disgust as his boyfriend’s sweaty state. Bailey noticed, smirked, and laughed.

“Did you even do anything?”

Salem made a face. “I went on the bike thingy for a bit.”

Charlie gave his best friend a skeptical look while Bailey huffed. “How long’s a bit? Ten minutes?”

“Until I got sweaty,” Salem pouted. “I’d work out if it wasn’t so gross.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bailey replied lightly. Salem narrowed his eyes on the footballer who shrugged, “You’re practically allergic to physical exertion.”

Salem pointed at him, gaping, “I resent that!”

“It’s true, though,” Charlie remarked.

“You’re supposed to be on _my_ side, Chaz.”

“Whoa,” Charlie held up his hands, “I did not sign _that_ contract.”

Bailey laughed, and Salem glared at Charlie, sparing a second to shoot Bailey a fond look. “Fuck off, Chazza.” Bailey took another sip of his water while Charlie shook his head at Salem who raised his eyebrows at Charlie thoughtfully. “What’s the problem?”

Charlie huffed and released the bar abruptly. Bailey grimaced at it clanged, and Salem reached over to tug on a strand of his hair absently, both of them completely unaware or unconcerned with being in what passed as public.

“Patrick won’t fuck me.”

Bailey coughed, eyes wide while Salem nodded sagely.

“I think I’m too young for this conversation,” Bailey interjected.

“I think at eighteen you sucked my cock like a pro so you’d best sit your ass down exactly where it is if you’d like that to continue being a thing, Arthur,” Salem replied offhandedly.

Charlie blinked at them while Bailey pressed his lips together in a thin line, shooting Salem a dark glance, but Charlie could see the amusement lurking in the depths of his gaze. Salem didn’t seem particularly bothered by Bailey’s response so Charlie chose to focus on his best friend.

“I feel like you should elaborate on that.”

“Please don’t,” Bailey intoned.

Salem sighed exaggeratedly, “Arthur.”

“Konstantin,” Bailey returned evenly.

“I’m working here,” Salem retorted, turning to Charlie and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Charlie reached over to pluck the granola bar from Salem’s hand, and he narrowed his eyes but didn’t try to reclaim it while Charlie bit off the end and chewed with a pout. “In LA, he told me why he lied to me – ”

“And you forgave him,” Salem pointed out unnecessarily.

“I mean it was grossly self-sacrificing, and he had no right to make that kind of decision alone, but yes, I forgave him. It was idiotic and a little insulting, but I understood why he did it even if I’m still not happy about it.”

“You still haven’t told me what ‘it’ is,” Salem added.

Charlie stiffened, and Salem’s eyes narrowed. “He…found something out…something that made him feel like he needed to lie to protect me.” Salem cocked his head, something that seemed vaguely like understanding flashing in his eyes. Charlie frowned, but as quickly as it had appeared, the look was gone, replaced by Salem shrugging dismissively as Bailey’s eyes darted between Charlie and Salem thoughtfully.

“So…what’s the problem?” Bailey asked finally, cutting Charlie off before he could repeat his original answer. “Other than your lack of a sex life.”

Charlie huffed while Salem hid a smile as he took a sip of his Gatorade. “I guess I just didn’t expect us to revert to pre-admission behavior. I expected…I don’t know, _something_.”

Bailey shrugged, “At least he’s not out dating the planet.”

Salem tilted his boyfriend a considering look. “Are you never going to let that go?”

“Never,” Bailey affirmed with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, Salem turned back to Charlie who watching them enviously. Now that they’d gotten their shit together, Bailey and Salem were adorable. Not that they hadn’t been before but their adorableness had been somewhat bogged down by the considerable amount of angst that hung between the pair of them like a leaden weight.

They’d come back from Russia with Bailey on a high from winning the World Cup and settled in the way Charlie had wanted to be with Patrick for years. The way he didn’t think he _could_ be. Now knew he might be able to be, but that he _wasn’t_ because he and Patrick were existing in a stasis filled with sexual tension, domesticity, and the lingering weight of unshakeable distrust from what Patrick had forcibly hidden for years.

Charlie didn’t mind that they were learning each other again now that Patrick didn’t feel like he had to hide his bisexuality.

What he minded was that they spent all their free time cuddling up together, fell asleep curled around each other on Charlie’s bed most nights, and woken up with their hard dicks pressed against each other’s asses but they both ignored those things like they’d never happened.

Charlie loved sex. He also loved Patrick.

And he’d love to be having sex with Patrick no matter their tentative truce. They’d been ‘going slow’ for three years.

“Maybe Patrick’s trying to make sure you’re both in a…good place? You know what I mean?” Salem offered while Bailey tossed him a skeptical look that Charlie completely seconded.

“I’m not afraid to call myself a nympho, Sale,” Charlie replied.

Bailey smothered a laugh while Salem’s eyes shifted to the ceiling like he was praying for patience, shaking his head. Reaching over, Bailey flicked Salem lightly in the temple while he looked over at Charlie. “Remember when we went to Irial’s birthday party, and we had that lovely and unwanted conversation about getting your act together and taking action.”

Salem looked between the two of them, his mouth falling open in surprise. “ _What_ conversation?”

“Shh,” Bailey interrupted smugly, “I’m working here.” Salem rolled his eyes.

Charlie cringed. “I have a feeling I’m about to regret that conversation.”

Bailey’s smirk grew impossibly more smug as he nodded his head. “Maybe you should try following your own advice. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know where you stand. He lied to you for _years_. He betrayed your trust, played on your feelings, and manipulated you and Evelyn both no matter his reasons. You’re both still figuring out what that means and where you stand, and maybe he doesn’t want to make the first move because he doesn’t think he deserves to or that you won’t be receptive or that you’re still just the tiniest bit mad. Just because he knows you, doesn’t mean he feels assured that he knows what you want. Maybe you should stop being like Salem and make a move sometime this century.”

Salem heaved a long-suffering sigh. “This isn’t going away any time soon, is it?”

“No,” Bailey confirmed.

Charlie scowled and narrowed his eyes at Bailey. “That’s like the most I’ve ever heard you speak in one go.”

Bailey rolled his eyes while Salem laughed delightedly. Charlie winked at him while Bailey huffed and shook his head, getting to his feet. “No way. I’m not doing the tag-team best friend bullshit.”

“He curses?” Charlie feigned a gasp while Bailey threw up his hands and walked away without looking back, Salem watching him go with an affectionate look that Charlie brought a smile to Charlie’s own. He handed Salem the last bit of his granola bar, and Salem gave him a sarcastic look but accepted it gratefully while Charlie sighed. “Your boyfriend might have a point.”

Salem nodded, “I know.” 

* * *

 

Patrick shouldered open the door, juggling the massive Starbucks caramel Frappuccino in one hand and the package he’d been handed by the postman in the other all while Snow pressed her nose through the crack in greeting.

Huffing, Patrick nudged her gently out of the way and slipped inside.

“Your papa’s not here, is he?” Snow wagged her tail and panted, staring up at him with big, bright eyes. Patrick huffed and shook his head, eyes catch on the set of keys and wallet thrown haphazardly on the table in the reception room. Fuck, yes, Charlie was home. He always got into these long-winded spiels when Patrick went out to jog and came back with a sugary beverage worth his weight in calories.

Charlie wasn’t necessarily a health freak, but he did have a thing about counter-productive workouts.

Patrick walked into the kitchen in search of his…Charlie. Not _his_ anything because they still hadn’t… _he_ hadn’t whatever.

“Chaz?” Patrick called as he backtracked to the hall, Snow following close at his heels and nosing him. He dropped his keys and cup on the table, reaching down to pet Snow. “Come on then, I’ll let you out the back.”

He peered around the living room, frowning when he didn’t find Charlie and opening the back door to let Snow romp around the backyard. Making his way back to the stairs, Patrick pulled his phone out of the pocket of his shorts, shooting off a quick text message to Salem.

**Patrick:** Did Chaz say if he was going home?

Hesitating on the first floor at the top of the stairs, Patrick tilted his head, listening. “Chaz?”

**Salem:** Absolutely yes.

Patrick frowned.

_What the hell does_ that _mean?_

Shaking his head, Patrick opened the door to Charlie’s room and frowned at the gym clothes sprawled across the floor. He bent down and picked them up, knowing Charlie wouldn’t be pleased when he realized he’d left them on the floor instead of in the hamper. The door to the bathroom opened, releasing a whoosh of steam, and Charlie stilled in the doorway, his damp hair sticking to his skin and nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist leaving his flushed, tanned skin and delicious abs unobstructed.

Swallowing and fighting his libido, Patrick cleared his throat and ran one hand through his hair while the other he balled into a fist and tucked into his pocket after tossing the clothes into the hamper. Charlie’s gaze raked over Patrick, heating briefly, before he’d ducked his head and made his way over to his dresser.

“You went for a run.” Patrick nodded, his eyes following Charlie as his heart rate sped. “You had one of those coffees afterwards didn’t you?”

Patrick huffed out a laugh, hoping Charlie didn’t notice how shaky it came out. Judging by the look Charlie threw him over his shoulder, Patrick hadn’t been successful. Swallowing, Patrick shifted and changed the subject. “You got a package.” Charlie turned around and raised his eyebrows. Patrick laughed uncomfortably, “I left it downstairs.”

Charlie nodded. “It’s from Agent Provocateur.” Patrick’s mouth fell open slightly, and Charlie’s eyebrows rose as he crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s lingerie. Why does that surprise you? It shouldn’t. You know me. We’ve lived together for three years. This is not a secret. I know we’ve been through some shit it in last few months, but I haven’t actually stopped wearing lace knickers every now and then in that time.”

Patrick blinked at him. “You’re rambling.” _Why is he working himself up?_

“Why won’t you sleep with me?”

_Oh, now I get it._

“Do you want me to?”

“Are you serious right now?” Charlie demanded.

Shaking his head, Patrick bridged the distance between them, wrapping one arm around Charlie’s waist and tugging him against Patrick’s body while his other hand cupped Charlie’s cheek.

It seemed to take Charlie genuine effort to drag his eyes away from Patrick’s lips to meet his gaze, and his fingers fumbled gingerly with the bottom of Patricks’ shirt before he began to pull it up, knuckles skimming lightly over the sensitive skin. Patrick shivered and allowed Charlie to tug off Patrick’s shirt, pressing their bare chests together. Charlie’s arms wound around Patrick’s neck.

They hovered on the precipice of something for a moment before they moved as one, pressing their lips together, skipping straight over sweet and delving right into hot, sensual, desperate. The sexual tension that had been coagulating for years hitting its breaking point and boiling over as their tongues tangled, breath mingled, moans swallowed by each other’s mouths.

“What are we doing?” Patrick whispered into Charlie’s mouth as his fingers tugged at the towel around Charlie’s waist until it fell at their feet. His hand groped at Charlie’s ass, and he bit Charlie’s lip as he groaned.

Shaking his head, Charlie rested his forehead against Patrick’s meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, but I need you too much to try and figure it out right now.”

Patrick nodded in understand, pressing his lips back against Charlie’s. Before he knew how it happened, Charlie had his legs wrapped around Patrick’s waist, his hands clenched in his hair, and their tongues tangled together as they kissed desperately and tumbled onto Charlie’s bed.

And in the heat of passion and well of uncertainty, Patrick felt like he’d finally come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Museum of Death's existence makes me so happy (even though it's in LA and I despise LA).
> 
> Agent Provocateur (did I spell that right?) is a lingerie company, and yes Charlie is not vanilla. I'm hoping we all knew that, but if I'm honest this story is probably not going to delve deeply into their sex lives because of reasons you will eventually find out. I don't want to spoil the surprise. I didn't even tag it because that would really ruin the surprise.


	21. "Beating Me Up" by Rachel Platten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Daiki Company store opening 2.0

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** Today’s the day!!!!!!!!!!

**Charlie:** Omfg calm down. Your excitement is giving me whiplash

**Charlie:** It’s too early for this.

**Salem:**!!!!!!!!

**Charlie:** Lol I’ll see you there

 

**The Daiki Company to open flagship store in London**

The young consumer electronics company started by Konstantin Kimura-Petrov and several friends he met at university announced its intent to open a flagship retail store within the year in January, but only has just confirmed that the opening of the company’s first retail store would be located only minutes from the company’s offices in Piccadilly Circus, just off Regent’s street. The store will open Wednesday, August 1 starting at ten am. The store features three floors of space and will feature both a bar and up-and-coming DJ, Carter Skeet, who confirmed he was working on state-of-the-art mixing board and turntables for commercial sale with the enigmatic CEO and inventor. It’s not unexpected to see a whole host of celebrity attendees dropping in at some point during the day either.

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

I’m going! We’re going @Cherrie_TA. I want to go!!!!!!! @TheDaikiCo. #grandopening #giveittomenow

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@DorianII so @StPatty_ and I will see you there then :P

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

It’s too early for all this excitement

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@DorianII @Charlie Beck @StPatty_ we should grab dinner afterwards.

 

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**

@DorianII are you still alive?

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

@Cris_Emerson no! #floatsawayonacloud

 

**Alina Rosen (@AlinaAzadi)**

@DorianII @CharlieBeck I’ll be seeing you both there then.

 

**Maverick (@MaverickOfficial)**

@CharlieBeck everyone’s going. I feel like I should now #justmight #couldbefun

 

**Text message to Israel**

**Patrick:** You no go? :(

**Israel:** I’m dying x_x

**Patrick:** Is it contagious? If not I’ll drop off some soup

**Israel:** How are you such an asshole

**Patrick:** <3 u :D

* * *

The last time Charlie Beck had seen Maverick he’d been forcing half a bottle of hand soap down his throat to induce vomiting after he’d OD’d on booze and Ectasy. The last time  _Patrick_ had seen Maverick had been when he’d found Charlie cradling the man curled around a mop bucket and puking profusely as Charlie stroked his hair out of his face and ordered Patrick in a stoic but shaken tone to call an ambulance.

Maverick had shaken his head and fished his mobile phone out of the pocket of his ripped skinny jeans and told Patrick to ‘dial two.’ Less than ten minutes later, a plump woman in her late twenties with a perpetually harassed expression and her dark brown hair twisted up into a ponytail had shuffled him into a black SUV parked out back with the help of Maverick’s sympathetic but ultimately unsurprised bodyguard. Patrick had watched the news every day for two weeks until he and Charlie had had verifiable proof that Maverick was still alive and kicking.

The kid was sweet even in the midst of an overdose, but after the last scarring experience, Patrick didn’t particularly relish meeting him again.

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and watched as Charlie swept him into a tight embrace, the concern in every line of his body. Wineglass in hand and a pinched expression on her face, Salem’s ex-girlfriend, some big-chested blond woman with a narrow waist and an expensive dress that clung to her in a way that left nothing at all to the imagination, watched Charlie and Maverick’s interaction with a hunger that bordered on predatory and unsettled Patrick deeply.

“How are you?” Charlie asked genuinely.

Maverick blushed and shifted uneasily under the intensity of Charlie’s singular attention. “Fine. I’m fine. It’s been awhile.”

Patrick scoffed, and Maverick’s eyes moved to him, his face turning impossibly redder as he met Patrick’s gaze briefly before it swiftly skittered away. Charlie shot him a dark look, and Patrick raised his eyebrows and clarified. “I’d hardly call a year ‘awhile.’” Patrick insisted.

Rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, Maverick nodded his head, fingers dancing anxiously and tapping out a nervous rhythm against his thigh. “Hmm. Yeah. I guess so.”

Charlie grabbed his hands and frowned. “But you’re doing…better now?”

“I mean I’m sober.”

“At the moment or in general?” Patrick pressed.

Maverick’s lips twisted up into what seemed like a bemused smirk but fell as quickly as it had appeared. “Hmm. The former. Maybe? I’m trying.”

Charlie bit his lower lip and shot Patrick a glance that he caught and understood.

Charlie’s history as a child star had fucked him up, but for all his father’s assholeishness and his distance from his mother, he’d had enough of a stable home life to get by.

Maverick, from what Patrick recalled, hadn’t been blessed with any of that.

Arguably the biggest celebrity of their generation, the teen sensation had appeared seemingly out of nowhere at fourteen and hadn’t ever managed to crawl back into obscurity, though attempts had evidently been made. He and Charlie had briefly met when Charlie had been doing his stint in Disney, and though it had only been from afar and hadn’t brought them close, the experience working with him had infused Charlie with both responsibility for him as well as an empathy that hadn’t waned through the years, distance, and lack of contact.

The man had gone from making Disney movies and singing catchy show tunes with an enviable voice on Radio Disney to becoming the next Justin Bieber with fewer severe scandals but, admittedly, no less personal issues. He’d been a notorious lothario since age fifteen, had landed a modeling contract with Calvin Klein by eighteen that had only brought in more modeling gigs, and had even been in his fair share of high grossing Indie movies including a short film about gender equality that had won an award at the Sundance film festival.

No one knew much about him aside from his lengthy list of girlfriends and professional history, and Maverick seemed content to let things remain that way. The one and only time he’d ever come close to revealing anything personal had been when he’d been absolutely baked in an interview and told the interviewer who’d been pushing for information about his sex life that in his limited time off he liked to watch an assorted collection of Dreamworks and Pixar animation films. It seemed to have worked out well enough since he’d been cast in a Dreamworks picture only a few months after that.

Everyone had pretended they hadn’t known he was high when he’d admitted that.

“I didn’t know Salem knew so many interesting people,” Georgia Hanson purred as she sidled up to Maverick, pressing against him, utterly obliviously to his discomfort at the action.

Maverick hummed nervously and giggled, “Oh, I’ve never met Salem.”

“Oh?” Georgia inquired, batting her eyelashes.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at Georgia, and Patrick stepped up beside Charlie to raise his eyebrows at the woman. _Absolute horrendous bitch. Salem should never have hired her._ Charlie had said that ages ago, but it took actually _meeting_ Georgia to understand why people had such a strong, negative reaction to her. It had taken Patrick less than five minutes when he’d done Thanksgiving with Charlie, Salem, and Salem’s assorted flatmates and family to ascertain why Charlie hated her with such a passion – and that was _before_ Charlie had explained just what exactly she’d done to Salem that precipitated everything else.

“Yeah. I came for Alina.” Maverick winced as Georgia’s eyebrows rose. “And Charlie.”

Patrick’s eyes darted to Charlie who pursed his lips and watched Georgia with caution and distrust.

Georgia’s eyes moved between Charlie and Maverick. Patrick stiffened, taking a step closer to Charlie and drawing Georgia’s attention. He crooked an eyebrow at her in a wordless challenge, and she looked away hastily, wisely choosing to back off of Charlie, though that unfortunately left Maverick an open and easy target.

“So the rumors are true, then? About you and Alina Rosen…?”

Even as she asked the question with a coy glint in her eye, a lascivious smile curled on her lips as she ran a hand along the length of his arm and rested another against his stomach. Charlie grimaced. Patrick sneered. Maverick stilled, his eyes widening slightly before he shook his head and side-stepped away from her in a discreet, smooth movement that seemed more like an instinctual tick than an outright brush-off.

“Of a sort,” Maverick returned blandly, giggling nervously and brushing some of his ombre ringlets out of his eyes.

“We could always make some new rumors,” Georgia propositioned without even the slightest hint of tact. Patrick turned to look at Charlie in disbelief, watching as the younger man scowled and eyed Georgia distastefully. “You and I.”

Maverick opened his mouth and shook his head, unnerved.

Charlie interrupted before Maverick had a chance to awkwardly turn her down. “Don’t you have work to be doing, Georgia?”

Patrick nodded and jumped in as Maverick shot Charlie a grateful look, and Georgia drew away from Maverick with an irritated look on her face. “Last _I_ heard this isn’t actually a social event for you.”

“You _work_ for Daiki Company. For _Salem_. Who’s here…working.” Charlie continued pointedly.

“Salem doesn’t care,” Georgia insisted with a glare.

Patrick snorted dismissively while Charlie gaped at her incredulously.

“Salem? _My_ best friend, Salem? Salem Petrov?” Charlie repeated, and Georgia’s expression darkened while Maverick glanced between the three of them with growing bemusement. Eyebrows furrowing, Charlie pressed, “Workaholic Salem?”

“Yes!” Georgia snapped furiously. “Our mutual ex-boyfriend, Salem!” Charlie rolled his eyes, and Maverick startled, tension easing for a bare instant as his gaze shifted to Charlie with surprise and a burgeoning curiosity that had Patrick frowning thoughtfully. In that instant, Georgia had set her sights back on Maverick, wrapping one arm around his neck while the other – in a gross display of inappropriateness and impropriety – slid over his chest and down to palm him through his jeans.

Maverick yelped.

Charlie’s mouth fell open in complete and utter shock as he fell back against Patrick who only just managed to catch him through the haze of his own bone-deep shock. _What the actual fuck?_

“Ignore the cockblocks, yeah? There’s plenty of time for a quickie in the back, don’t you think baby?” Georgia pressed a kiss to Maverick’s neck, and he flushed, eyes wide and startled like a cornered animal, as she nipped his earlobe.

Charlie took a step towards her determinedly, and Patrick grabbed his upper arm to hold him back, not at all confident he’d be able to refrain himself from punching her if he went to them now, and no matter how disgusting and disrespectful Georgia was, Charlie punching a woman – a _trans_ woman at that – for sexually harassing a male celebrity with a public history for womanizing wouldn’t be spun in his favor.

The look Charlie shot him was irate and the slightest bit betrayed, and Patrick opened his mouth, either to explain or to yell at Georgia, when the door to the storeroom jerked open.

Four heads swivelled as Rosie Ireland, infuriated and wrathful, dragged someone familiar enough to set Patrick’s nerves on edge, his back straighten, and his hair stand on end. Charlie shot him a confused look before doing a double take at the woman she’d whirled around on with a sharp, “Margaret, you heinous bitch, you’re sure as shit not supposed to be here.”

The unmistakable figure of Maggie Gallagher, painfully thin, so pale she practically glowed, and the spitting image of her younger brother, looked beyond Rosie, taking in the four of them as he lips curved up into a smirk.

“Now, now, Rosemary, you sure you want to do this with an audience?”

Rosie startled and glanced at all of them as Maggie met Patrick’s eyes with a cruel, smug smirk. The American redhead settled her primary focus on Maverick, not sparing Maggie another glance before she’d crossed the room to extract Maverick from Georgia’s hold with a baleful glare. Maverick melted into her hold, trembling slightly as Rosie cupped his face in her hands. “Are you okay?”

Maverick swallowed, eyes darting around and mouth falling open with hesitation. Georgia sneered at Rosie and Maverick, and Charlie glared at her, stepping between them and her pointedly.

Patrick stayed focused on his sister, his big sister who he hadn’t seen in years.

That hadn’t been by accident.

The sheer reason that Patrick hadn’t spent the last eights years on a string of stunts had been his lowkey, under the radar lifestyle (and doubtlessly his agent and manager’s laidback blasé approach to dealing with him). That hadn’t meant he’d _never_ stunted, and the few and only times he had had been his sister’s fault entirely.

Maggie had gotten a job working for the rags in LA around the same time he’d started filming the _Hush, Hush_ series out there. At one time, they’d been close, close enough that Patrick hadn’t batted an eyelash at letting Maggie get close regardless of her job and had given her unprecedented access into his and his friend’s lives. That had been where the trouble the started. He’d lost more than his fair share of friends when privileged information had made it onto the pages of gossip magazines, but family was family so Patrick had ignored the warning signs and let it slide.

Until Patrick had ended up on the cover of _US Weekly_ in a screaming match with Torin and a fifteen hundred word article speculating about his sexuality and exact nature of his relationship with the rockstar as well as a play by play of the fight.

It had been the first story to leak about him, but it hadn’t been the last.

And when he’d started stunting with Hollywood elite to counteract his sister’s articles, she received the stories of the incredible rise and the inevitable downfall as well as all the scandals in between.

When Maggie had leaked photos of him half draped over his very male hook up for the night while lines of cocaine rested on the table in front of them, photos she in no way should have had access to or shared, Patrick had cut ties both personally and professionally. It had caused enough of a rift in the family that she hadn’t seen their mother since graduating from university and settling in LA and hadn’t spoken to her since they’d gotten into a three way screaming match over Skype about her behavior.

Everything about Maggie was predatory. She was the kind of shark that people tried to teach budding defense attorneys to emulate.

If Patrick wanted her one the other side of the world away from him, then a neighboring solar system was too close of contact to Charlie.

“You should go, Maggie,” Patrick snapped tensely.

Maggie’s smile widened as she brandished her wineglass and gave a dainty shrug. “Is that any way to greet your big sister, Patty?”

Charlie scoffed and shook his head, drawing Maggie’s gaze in a way that made Patrick distinctly uncomfortable. He sneered at Maggie whose smirk only grew more pronounced as her eyes skimmed over Charlie before shifting to Patrick.

“Isn’t he a little young, Pat?”

“I don’t think anyone asked for your opinion on shit you know nothing about at all.” Patrick spat bitterly. Charlie reached out like he wanted to comfort him. Georgia’s eyebrows rose as Maggie’s laser-like gaze focused pointedly on that hand. Patrick shook his head quickly, abruptly, and Charlie stilled, his eyes darting to Maggie, before he dropped his hand back to his side and scowled.

“What’s going on?” Salem demanded as he swept into the room with Bailey just behind him and a wide-eyed, alarmed Alina Rosen behind _him_.

Patrick watched Salem take in the room as Maggie took in Salem and Bailey with interest. Bailey’s face grew impossibly more dispassionate, and Patrick glowered at his sister more while Salem rested a hand gingerly on his arm.

“Patty?”

Maggie smirked and cocked her head, “My, my what company you keep, Patrick.”

_Fucking hell, haven’t you fucked up enough of my friendships?_

“Why are you still here, Maggie?” He demanded furiously, because honestly, she could take a hike. He didn’t understand why she’d come to the UK at all. Her life, job, and husband had all been located firmly and securely in America last time he’d checked. Admittedly, the last time he’d checked had been when he’d fled the country for London three years ago, but she was a tabloid journalist married to a man who produced America’s darling reality television series.

The smug smile that crossed her face as she said, “I’m doing my job,” before sipping her wine put him on edge.

Her _job_ was supposed to be in _America_.

Which meant she didn’t need – and shouldn’t have a reason to – cross the Atlantic.

Recognition seemed to cross over Salem’s face. Patrick frowned as Salem drawled, “Right…” his attention shifted to Georgia. Alina glared at her, disgusted, and Patrick wondered who’d spilled the story behind Maverick’s mild breakdown with Alina who’d been raised by a Navy SEAL and could most likely kick everyone’s ass without taking off her heels or mussing her hair. “What’s _your_ part in whatever _this_ was, Georgia?”

Shrugging, Georgia’s eyes darted to Maggie, lighting with sly satisfaction that unnerved him, then Maverick, lips curving up into a lecherous smirk, before returning to Salem defiantly. “Nothing, Maverick and I were just getting acquainted.”

No one seemed particularly amused or accepting of her reply, and Rosie’s odd protectiveness of Maverick – who by all rights she shouldn’t know _all that well_ – had rendered her downright menacing.

Slowly, Salem nodded, “Okay, I can’t believe I have to _tell_ you not to sexually solicit anyone while your working, but, since we’re here, let’s just add that to a part of your job description. Cool?”

Georgia’s face went red as she spat furiously, “I’m not a whore.”

“Debatable,” Alina remarked. Georgia sneered, and the popstar shrugged, unconcerned, “Call it like I see it. You know what else? I think you’re dangerous. I think you’ll do anything to get what you want, and God only knows what you want.”

Patrick’s gaze remained focused on his sister who watched all these exchanges, soaking them in and studying them like a biologist conducting research experiments on cells under her microscope.

Georgia might be psychotic, but Patrick knew his sister.

If anyone in this room had the potential to be dangerous, it was Maggie. Georgia was a ticking time bomb, yes, but she was the bomb that you saw coming.

Maggie was an IED. You knew it could be there, but not where _exactly_ , if it would go off if you touched it, or who it would kill if it _did_.

Charlie sidled up beside Patrick as Salem shuffled Georgia and Maggie out of the room while Patrick watched them go with a feeling of foreboding and a leaden weight of dread settling in the pit of his stomach. His fingers laced with Patrick’s, and Charlie tugged on his arm while he wrapped his other hand around Patrick’s forearm as he pressed against Patrick, grounding him and bringing him back to the present.

Patrick turned to Charlie who raised his eyebrows and smiled worriedly, squeezing his arm. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Patrick shook his head, forcing his attention to shift from obsessing over his sister. “I’m fine. I just…she’s…I didn’t realize she was back in the country, that’s all.”

Frowning, Charlie nodded, licking his lips and shifting his eyes away nervously. Patrick turned to him, raising his eyebrows, and Charlie pursed his lips and offered Patrick a thin smile before murmuring lowly, “Maybe you should ask your mother.”

Patrick narrowed his eyes on Charlie. “What do you know?”

“Nothing!” Charlie denied quickly.

 “I thought we agreed on 100% honesty,” Patrick teased, though he wasn’t exactly kidding.

Charlie bit his lips and extracted his hand from Patrick’s to clench his hands together behind his back as he rocked anxiously on his heels. His eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and he glanced over at Salem, making plans and trying to calm Maverick from the precipice of sheer breakdown he hung over, before stepping closer to Patrick. He admitted rather unwillingly, “When I was in LA I heard some things. There were some lawsuits filed against her, but I hadn’t even considered that she’d make her way here.”

“Lawsuits?”

Charlie nodded, and Patrick huffed and nodded his head with a frown on his face. “You’re right. I need to talk to my mother. Fuck if Kennedy Gallagher didn’t know her daughter was in legal trouble.”


	22. "The Night Is Still Young" by Nicki Minaj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick's birthday party proves boys are clueless

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** I feel like im the new u

**Salem:** Do I even want to know what the hell you’re talking about?

**Charlie:** We’re in some weird fugue state

**Charlie:** Dating but not dating

**Salem:** But at least you’re fucking now :P

**Charlie:** Omfg y r u such a diiiiiiiiiiiiick????

 

**Tension on set of CW’s _Ethereal_?**

According to the gossip, hit television show, _Ethereal_ , has experienced a spike in tension this year since the infamous split between costars Evelyn Merritt and Patrick Gallagher. Sources say in addition to the tension between Gallagher and Merritt – and consequently between the Irish-born actor’s best friend and housemate, Charlie Beck, and Gallagher’s ex-girlfriend – there have been conflict between the show’s writer and creator, Israel, and studio executives regarding the direction and sexual orientation of the show’s characters. In early May while co-writing an upcoming Netflix original series in New York City, _Ethereal_ ’s creator gave an interview after a visit to the CW studios to meet about the show’s future saying, “This show had a direction, a storyline, and a message from the beginning. This wasn’t sudden, and, frankly, the show’s viewership has only increased with such a diverse LGBT base represented. They can fight with me all they’d like, but I have no intention of changing anything for the benefit of a bunch of balding middle-aged homophobic white men in thousand dollar Armani suits who sit behind a desk all day. I live in the real world, and this is what real people, the real public who are of an age and mind to watch the CW actually want to see.” Despite tensions cast regular, Sienna Mortimer, says everything’s going smoothly. “Everyone’s very professional. There have always been tensions on set, it’s a lot of personalities, but at the end of the day we’re a family, we get it together, get things done, and care about each other.”

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Some people should learn how to pick up after themselves (the hamper’s right there)

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Some people should learn not to nag (next time I won’t make brekkie for you)

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@Salem_Daiki make it stop!

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@notthecountry right but remember those dark angsty times before? #pickyourpoison

 

**Text message to Bailey**

**Charlie:** Tell Salem to answer his damn phone

**Charlie:** Also are you 2 coming tonite?

**Bailey:** I’m going to ignore the dirty joke you spoon fed me.

**Charlie:** -_-

**Bailey:** Yes we’ll b there chaz. Stop freakng out

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Oh my god I’m ancient O.O

* * *

“So,” Charlie whirled around to face Patrick with a guilty smile tugging at his lips as he plucked the glass out of Patrick’s fingertips. Patrick narrowed his eyes on Charlie whose smile only widened innocently. “I  _know_ you hate surprises, but there might one  _tiny_ surprise.”

Patrick made a long-suffering face and shook his head. “No, no, no!”

Charlie laughed and nodded, taking a sip of Patrick’s Scotch and grimaced as he took a sip of the strong drink. Ducking his head, Patrick stifled a laugh while Charlie handed it back with a scowl, chasing away the taste by downing his the remnants of his strawberry daiquiri. He wavered beside Patrick, wishing he felt comfortable knowing whether or not he could touch Patrick in public the way he had been before they’d started…whatever this was. When roles had been clearly defined, and there’d been none of this doubt or crippling insecurity that someone would see or notice or assuming something more than they’d been assuming two months ago.

Picking up on his uncertainty, Patrick snaked his arm around Charlie’s waist and tugged their bodies together and letting Charlie snuggle up against him. He pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple in spite of how uneasy he seemed to about the whole ‘surprise’ situation.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Charlie teased, “the surprise isn’t actually _for you_. You’re just implicit.”

“Are you manipulating people’s lives again?”

Huffing, Charlie rested his hands on Patrick’s chest and peered up at him, pouting. “Have you been following your cousin’s life story on Snapchat?” Patrick smiled thinly and shook his head. “Ra-Ra needs help. I’m all about doing what you have to do, but, let’s be real, at this point if she hasn’t broken into the fashion industry – and she _hasn’t_ – then never will on her own unless she ends up on _America’s Next Top Model_ , which is bottom of the barrel for finding a job. You can’t let your cousin end up a reality television star when you have perfectly good contacts that she could milk.”

Bemused, Patrick shook his head and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. “Contacts?”

“Me,” Charlie nodded with a grin. “I meant me…and all the people from the fashion industry that I invited to your birthday party including my mother, some of her designer friends, Poppy, Lavonne, a couple Victoria Secret models, and the scout from Poppy’s modeling agency.” He shrugged innocently while Patrick fought a grin. “Oops.” His eyes drifted passed Patrick where he could see Ra-Ra drifting through the crowd in a patterned shift dress and killer black ankle boots. “Don’t look now, but here she comes. And she looks flawless.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Patrick turned to beam at his cousin as she came up with Poppy trailing behind her. Ra-Ra and Patrick hugged while Poppy raised her eyebrows at Charlie and nodded once, sidling up to him and whispering in his ear.

“Mum loves her.” Charlie looked over at his sister, quirking his eyebrow. Her grin grew broader as her eyes shifted back to Poppy. “So does Kellan, the scout from BMA.”

“That’s a great dress. Designer?”

“River Island.”

“They’re cute,” Charlie admitted reluctantly.

Poppy threw back her head and laughed, sipping her martini and pressing his lips together to try and contain a smile. “You’re so pretentious, but you’re in good company. My favorite brother’s new boyfriend is practically a walking ad for Burberry.”

Charlie turned to narrow his eyes at Poppy. “Can you not call Salem your favorite brother? I know our families are bizarrely intertwined, but since we used to screw – _vigorously_ – can we not make this familial? Is that possible?”

Poppy waggled her eyebrows. “Is it possible for you to stop being grossly domestic with your not-boyfriend?”

He groaned, “God, I feel like Salem.”

She giggled, both of them sobering as Ra-Ra and Patrick turned to face them. Charlie beamed, and Ra-Ra’s cheeks reddened.

“Ra-Ra!”

“Chaz!” She squeaked nervously as he reached out to pull her into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“You look absolutely gorgeous, darling. Like Taylor Swift before she chopped off all her gorgeous curls to modernize.” Ra-Ra’s eyebrows rose while Patrick gave an exaggerated eye roll behind her back. Salem, hearing the end of that as he sidled up to the bar, froze beside Patrick, eyebrows drawing together and his glass of straight vodka hovering midair at his lips. He muttered something quietly to Patrick both of them cracking up.

Ra-Ra smiled uncertainly and eyed Charlie carefully, patting his shoulder as she stepped backwards. “And you look very…” she hesitated, and Patrick and Salem stifled laughter behind her while Poppy sipped her drink genially, looking anywhere but at the pair of them. “Expensive,” she settled on.

Salem nodded sagely while Patrick collapsed on Salem’s shoulder, laughing silently.

Assholes.

Why did he only ever fall in love with assholes?

“It’s the bar, isn’t it?” Charlie joked lightly as Ra-Ra relaxed and giggled as she nodded and gave him a thumbs up. “Drink? Beer? Vodka? Cocktail? Whiskey or Scotch, if you’re feeling super Irish?”

“Martini, please. Dry.” Ra-Ra answered.

Patrick flagged down the bartender, ordering another daiquiri for Charlie and a dry martini for Ra-Ra who blinked at Salem in surprise, only now noticing him standing behind her.

“Oh. Hi. I’m Ra-Ra, Patty’s cousin.”

“Salem Petrov,” he nodded. Ra-Ra waited, and Salem hesitated uncertainly, his eyes shifting to Charlie, who shrugged, and then to Patrick who seemed equally as uncertain. He cleared his throat and waved a hand dismissively. “Charlie’s best friend.”

Bailey froze and frowned, glancing between everyone before his gaze settled on Ra-Ra who inhaled sharply, eyes wide and mouth dropping open in surprise. Slowly, her hands rose to cover his mouth as she fought to get her breathing under control. Patrick winced, eyes drifting up towards the ceiling while he exhaled loudly, and Salem watched with endless amusement as Bailey rocked back on his heels with growing suspicion and rising discomfort. Ra-Ra fanned herself.

Passing Charlie his daiquiri around Ra-Ra’s freak out, Patrick shook his head at his cousin, and Charlie sipped the drink, waiting for Ra-Ra to finally snap. Poppy leaned against Charlie’s side and hid her amusement behind the rim of her glass. “This is hysterical. I wonder who’s going to break first, Ra-Ra or Bailey.”

Charlie elbowed Poppy lightly, and she laughed and threw her arm around his neck.

“Oh my Lord, you’re Arthur Bailey.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Bay,” Salem interrupted, catching his attention and reaching out to gently tug Bailey towards him. He handed Bailey his glass of vodka, stifling a smile when he winced at the taste and covered it up with a cough. “This is Norah Ahearne, Ra-Ra, Patrick’s cousin.”

“Oh,” Bailey drawled, a smile growing on his lips before it froze and fell. He turned to Salem, resting his fingertips lightly on his arm as he leaned it to ask quietly, “But…why?”

Salem shook his head while Poppy pressed her face into Charlie’s shoulder to stifle laughter. Charlie and Patrick’s eyes met over Ra-Ra’s head as she fanned herself dramatically and pressed her trembling hand against her stomach. He’d forgotten how much Patrick’s family loved football. Clearly that mental lapse spawned its own set of problem children.

Ra-Ra grinned at Bailey slowly, and he nodded uncertainly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bailey remarked, and Salem collapsed against Patrick with silent laughter. Charlie shook his head at his best friend as Patrick patted Salem’s head gently with a wide grin on his face. Bailey looked like he’d swallowed something sour. Obviously ‘it’ was far from fine.

“Why you assholes being boring and hanging out at the bar gossiping like a bunch of preteen girls?” Israel announced hirself, edging between the bodies to lean over the bar and order another cosmopolitan. Ze tossed hir hair over her shoulder to peer between Charlie and Patrick, lips curving up into a smirk. “Your PAs are drunkenly making out by the DJ booth.”

Charlie’s mouth fell open as his eyes met Patrick’s. “No!”

Israel nodded with a wry smile as ze turned to Salem who moved to greet hir, tugging Bailey along behind him.

Patrick reached out for Charlie’s hand, lacing their fingers together to guide him through the crowd of his buzzed, dancing friends to find their mismatched pair of PAs exchanging a wet kiss by the DJ booth.

With Evelyn out of the picture, Charlie had pleaded and been given the go ahead to plan Patrick’s 24th birthday “so long it’s neither crazy nor surprising” and had taken to it with gusto.

He’d rented out Club Deccord for the event and invited the totality of Patrick’s contacts list including the whole of _Ethereal_ ’s cast, a lot of the crew, his former castmastes from passed movies, his family (most of whom couldn’t make the trip), Salem and Bailey, Irial Dorian, Rosie Ireland, and Quinn Donahue, the guitarist from Patrick’s ex-boyfriend’s rock band, Bittersweet Surrender. Most of Patrick’s friends who’d shown up had stopped being coherent two hours ago, not long after Patrick had had the wherewithal to warn Charlie they ought to cut the cake while the night was still young.

Much better than last year, Charlie conceded, though he might be a bit biased. At least this year Charlie had actually spent majority of the party having fun instead of obsessing over what the state of his house.

Charlie leaned against Patrick, laughing as he shushed him and tugged him away from Avery and Sadie. Their foreheads pressed together as they laughed, and Charlie met his eyes with a wide smile. “Oh no! Sadie’s gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I’ll bet,” Patrick giggled, throwing an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and pressing his lips to Charlie’s ear to whisper, “So will Ra-Ra.”

“I’d imagine so,” Charlie giggled. “I don’t think Bailey cares, really, but Ra-Ra will tomorrow.”

Patrick nodded, seeming more gleefully delighted than he really ought to about his cousin’s embarrassment. Leaning into Charlie, Patrick nipped at his earlobe, and Charlie laughed as he tapped his fingertips on Charlie’s chest. “You know what? We should get more cake.”

“Oh my God, no,” Charlie moaned as he let Patrick tug him gently towards where they’d left his cake earlier in the night. He danced along at Patrick’s side while Patrick threw his head back and laughed as he lifted one of the remaining slices of cake off the table. Patrick offered Charlie a forkful, and he leaned forward to eat it off the fork, keeping his gaze locked on Patrick’s as he reeled back with a smug smirk and raised eyebrows. Patrick’s hand gripped the back of Charlie’s neck firmly.

“You’re a menace,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Sunshine.”

Charlie beamed and nodded, “Happy birthday, Pattycake.”

“Best one,” Patrick returned.

“You’re only saying that because you’re gonna get your cock sucked later,” Charlie teased, stealing another bite of the cake with an innocent smile.

“I take everything I ever said about you back. You’re evil.”

“Should you two be having this conversation so publicly?” A new voice asked, and they both turned to find Li Min standing behind them with a thoughtful expression her face and her nails tapping on the bottom of a plate. She spun her fork around through her fingers as she eyed them carefully.

Patrick narrowed his eyes on her, and Li Min blinked at him innocently and popped another bite of cake into her mouth. “We didn’t invite Xavier and Luka for a reason,” Patrick pointed out.

Li Min’s expression didn’t change beyond a rise in her thin eyebrows. “ _I_ don’t work for you. I work for the studio.”

Charlie frowned at her, “I thought you worked for the show.”

“I don’t think Israel would be happy to hear you technically work for the studio,” Patrick continued.

Their show’s publicist didn’t seem particularly moved by that, taking another bite of cake. “They’ve been on the fence about your…behavior and…preoccupation with each other since the inception of the show. You’re lucky they haven’t said anything sooner because a) you weren’t together and b) Charlie’s team assured us they were taking care of it. If there’s been a change, I need to be made aware of it. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

_God, I wish_.

Charlie’s eyes went to Patrick who hesitated as seemingly unsure of the situation as him. Other than commencing a vigorous sex life, Charlie and Patrick hadn’t actually technically agreed on anything, hadn’t hammered out what they were doing or what they were to each other. He’d never quite understood why Salem and Bailey had spent so long avoiding talking about their relationship.

He did now.

The crippling insecurity that everything you thought you knew might not be true. That you may not want each other in the same way. That maybe all those late night chats in each others arms while movies played quietly in the background until they both fell asleep meant more to Charlie than it did to Patrick. He knew instinctually that couldn’t be true, that Patrick cared about him even if he didn’t love him in the same way Charlie loved Patrick, but the possibility that he _didn’t_ , the off chance Charlie had been reading into things more than he should have, kept him still and silent when he wanted answers.

Maybe he should apologize for being so tough on Salem.

“We’re not together,” Patrick told Li Min in a steely tone, and Charlie bit his lip and ducked his head, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened and his stomach clenched. Patrick’s thumb rubbed the back of Charlie’s neck, and he looked over at Patrick, keeping his face straight.

“Uh-huh,” Li Min said skeptically, pointing her fork at them. “I want to know the minute that changes.”

“Yeah,” Patrick remarked skeptically, “ _you’ll_ be the first to know.”


	23. "Shots on the Hood of my Car" by Kesha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Comic Con

**Patrick Gallagher confirms role as the Joker**

We never seem to take a break from our favorite superhero films and television shows. In the last twenty years alone, we’ve seen Batman and company in Christopher Nolan’s _Dark Knight_ trilogy, the television show _Gotham_ , _Batman vs. Superman_ , and _Suicide Squad_. Now DC Comics has confirmed a new take on the Batman trilogy directed by NYU alumni and up-and-coming major directed, Douglas Colver, and gritty screenwriter from Manchester, Tinzy Ulrich. For this darker, grittier take on the Batman series, Ulrich said, “We wanted to concentrate on relationships. The one between Batman and the city. The city and its government. The Joker and Batman. I was hugely influenced by the Arkham comics so there’s a definite vein of the madness and darkness from that series in the film.” Rumors had abounded for weeks that _Hush, Hush_ and _Ethereal_ star, Patrick Gallagher, had been contracted to play Batman, but he revealed during NY Comic Con that he’d taken the role as the Joker alongside longtime friend and action star, Sinclair Tatu, who’d been cast as Batman.

 

**Reblogged by sunshinetricks**

**patrickgallagherlives**

Can I just take a moment to die please? Patrick Gallagher out here in New York looking fly as fuck in leather pants and leather jackets like some kind of Matrix remake. I’m dying. I’m dead. How can one person be so inhumanly gorgeous? Like what are they feeding men over there in Ireland? I can’t even. I’m so in love. Kill me now.

**thesorceresscreature**

Ok so if Pat’s in NYC that means he’s not here filming. So does that mean he’s not going to be in some of the episodes because I need Killian in my life, okay? Do you understand?

**killmekillian**

I thought killian was dead?

**etherealofficial**

Babes you haven’t watched the season 4 premiere yet have you?

**thekingandhiskillian**

HE LIVES!!!!! Naoise popped out of nowhere and saved his life

#spoiler alert

**thesorceresscreature**

So if we don’t have Killian can we at least have some Naoise? Some Brody/Cadeyrn action?

#let me live #ethereal #i need something I can hold onto

**notthecountryisrael**

@thesorceresscreature I’m insulted you’d think I’d leave you hanging like that…

**thesorceresscreature**

…:D

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck guess who I’m going to dinner with (ps I stole him from you)

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ it had better be @SinTatu and not my best friend (I’d have to kill you)

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

I feel like the kid in the middle of a custody battle

* * *

Patrick loved New York considerably more than he felt about Los Angeles and surprisingly better than London. Everything about the city felt homey, relaxed, wonderful, like there was a place for everyone to fit in. He loved it enough that he’d bought a three-bedroom apartment in Chelsea with a terrace and a view despite spending nine months out of the year filming a television show in London. He loved it even more that he could grab a pizza and chill out on the High Line with his friends without being harassed or photographed. And, really, if you were papped in New York, anyone could smell the PR stunt a whole country away.

Sitting cross-legged on the makeshift amphitheater overlooking 10th Avenue in a pair of ratty old jeans, an NYU sweatshirt, and a beanie, drinking Root Bear instead of alcohol and sharing a large box of artichoke pizza, Patrick felt relaxed. He’d feel _more_ relaxed if Charlie had been there, but he was as relaxed as he could be with the man he loved on another continent sending him text messages, Snapchats, and voice memos every few minutes. He missed Charlie, but God if Patrick didn’t love New York.

Sprawled across on of the benches and completely ignoring the dark look of a thirty-something-year-old man in a suit helping his daughter climb, Salem shot off a text message to Bailey with one hand while tossing back an artichoke heart he picked off his pizza slice with the other, waggling his eyebrows at Kimberly Lakshmi’s look of disdain and horror.

Kimberly was in town briefly, doing three shows at Brooklyn’s Barclay’s Center after literally just having hopped off a plane from Chicago. Patrick had met Kimberly when he’d been filming his first movie, _Heist Society_ , while she’d been breaking into the business and running around with Hip-Hop shot-callers in LA. They’d both been young, nervous, and new to the industry, which had made sticking together easy and realistic. The bond they’d formed had only grown stronger when Kimberly had admitted in a teary, drunken ramble that she thought she was a lesbian. She’d denied it profusely the next morning and had kissed Patrick to make a point…but reality, it seemed, had finally caught up with her somewhere between then and her public, messy breakup with Dominic Kinsey from Breaking Fourth.

Beside Kimberly was Sinclair “Sin” Tatu who’d been almost as much the child star as Charlie, but infinitely more troubled in his personal life. Honestly, people had some shit to say about the way Disney handled their stars, but Patrick knew that Sin could have used the locked-down, kick-in-the-ass, tough love handling that most Disney stars received and later resented. In any case, Sin had gotten his shit together. They’d met while shooting _Night Circus_ in 2013 and had a gung-ho friendship comprised of ‘I’m in the area want to meet ups’ that didn’t make them any less close for their stringent lack of regular contact. Beyond that, Sin was a mystery with dark, straight hair with on side shaved, an abundance of tattoos, and his nails painted black. Patrick adored him.

Along with Sin had come Nina Marquez, the Mexican-Chilean Victoria Secret model that had been pictured on Sin’s arm since she’d left her mother’s watchful eye on _The Real Housewives of Miami_ to become a supermodel. Toned, tanned, and with long, thick waves of dark hard cascading passed her shoulders, no one could deny Nina was gorgeous. More than that, she was sweet. She’d spent most of Comic Con dragging Ra-Ra – who Patrick had brought for a meeting with a modeling agency – around New York and getting her ready for her go-see. Sin, though, had introduced her with a hand on her lower back and a tight smile on his lips as he’d declared. “This is Nina. Nina, this is Patrick. Patty, we’re not actually dating.”

Patrick had decided not to pry.

Tinzy Ulrich, the enigmatic writer and Israel’s co-conspirator on her Netflix series brainchild, had invited himself. The German-born punk-rock writer with silvery-white hair sticking up in every direction and wearing the entirety of black, studded clothing from Hot Topic had shown up out of the blue. Sin and Patrick both liked him enough that they hadn’t bothered to wave him off. He was, apparently, staying with Sin anyway…and had no boundaries if the way he kept stealing sips of Sin’s root beer was anything to go by.

Sin didn’t seem particularly bothered by it.

“Here’s _my_ question,” Kimberly said, pointing the crust of her pizza at Patrick. “Are you _still_ doing this bizarre mating dance with your boy?”

“And you two had some shit to say about _me_ ,” Salem clucked his tongue and shook his head.

Patrick glared at him. “You pined for two _years_.”

“Just because you weren’t _fucking_ for three years, doesn’t mean you didn’t _pine_ , asshole,” Salem responded.

Sin nodded sagely while Nina watched them all, bemused but uncomprehending of their intrapersonal dramas. Tinzy ignored her entirely. Kimberly rolled her eyes. “What’s the holdup, dickhead?”

“Yeah, not like the whole world hasn’t known you two have been dancing around this for _ages_ ,” Sin added unhelpfully.

“The internet already thinks you’re fucking,” Tinzy went on. And, really, that didn’t add any pressure at all. Thanks very much.

“Oh, well, as long as the internet thinks so…” Patrick glared at Tinzy who shrugged, unconcerned with his ire. Sin quirked an eyebrow at him and shook his head.

Patrick hesitated to answer, and Salem sat up and pointed a finger at him, narrowing his eyes. “And don’t be an absolute idiot and try to say you’re ‘not sure how he feels about it’ or some kind of dumbass moronic shit. You two are so far up each other’s asses…”

Tinzy laughed and nodded, “Israel told me you two grocery shop together.”

“At midnight,” Salem confirmed, “at the big twenty-four hour Tesco up by Brent Cross. They like argue over frozen foods. It’s adorable.”

Patrick turned to him. “Charlie needs to stop oversharing.”

“Yeah? Want to know what he says about your sex life?”

“No,” Patrick shook his head.

Sin and Kimberly nodded their heads, “Yes.”

Tinzy sipped his drink and shook his head at all of them like he didn’t understand why he hung out with them while Nina giggled. Patrick turned to Tinzy and frowned, “When did Israel tell you that?”

“This summer when we were writing our controversial show for Netflix,” Tinzy responded.

“I’m still surprised they picked it up,” Sin admitted. Patrick narrowed his eyes and glanced between the pair of them.

Tinzy nodded in agreement, “Me too.”

“I mean your gung-ho, let’s fuck around with Christian mythology, make the Fall one big misunderstanding, _and_ make humans the bad guy was one thing, but having Lucifer and Michael be fuck buddies – ”

“I think it’s technically a bit more serious than that,” Tinzy frowned down at Sin.

He shrugged.

Salem choked on his drink and glared accusingly at Tinzy. “You did not tell me that!”

“Whoops?” Tinzy shrugged.

“ _Pizdayob_!” Salem exclaimed with a smile.

Tinzy rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. “My family was from East Berlin. I know what that means.” Salem threw back his head and laughed while Tinzy tossed an artichoke heart at him. Smirking when he fell silent and caught it in hand as it ricocheted off his forehead.

Kimberly clapped her hands together and leaned forward, her pizza dangling from her hands dangerously. She didn’t notice until Sin caught the mozzarella as it fell, tossing it into his mouth and waggling his eyebrows with a smirk as Kimberly glared at him. Nina giggled again and leaned against Sin while Tinzy rolled his eyes. Patrick decided that _that_ was a conversation best saved for another day.

“Share with the class,” Kimberly prompted him. “What’s the problem, kid?”

“I’m older than you,” Patrick pointed out.

Kimberly waved a hand dismissively, and Sin nodded and cut in, “Yeah, it’s not like you two aren’t already practically married. I know you didn’t buy $300 Helmut Lang sweatpants from Saks Fifth Avenue for _you_.”

“Charlie’s a diva about his clothes,” Patrick defended timidly while Salem nodded profusely in agreement.

At least _someone_ understood his shopping woes.

“This isn’t about the clothes,” Sin rolled his eyes. “This is about you being too afraid to pull the damn trigger.”

“The gun culture in this country is out of control,” Patrick felt inclined to point out. Tinzy nodded while Salem sighed exhaustedly.

Kimberly glared at him, “We’re trying to help you.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“That’s the great thing about being friends with someone,” Sin pointed out. “You didn’t have to ask. We’re here to save you from yourself.”

“Oh my God,” Patrick lamented to himself before holding up his hands and shaking his head. “Look, after all the crap that went down with his publicist and manager – that’s _still_ going down – and Li Min’s warning-threat-warnings, I’m just trying to protect him.”

“’Cause that worked out so well the last time,” Sin muttered while Tinzy flicked up his eyebrows and tilted his head in agreement.

Salem coughed, “Bullshit.”

Kimberly bit back a laugh as she nodded, and Sin smirked as Tinzy pressed his lips together in a way that said he didn’t disagree. Salem grinned, and Patrick glared. “Really, Salem?”

“Hey, I know what I’m talking about, actually,” he informed Patrick.

And, okay, Patrick could concede Salem had ample amounts of firsthand knowledge about this exact issue, except Salem might have actually had a better reason for not saying anything to Bailey for a hundred years.

Patrick rolled his eyes, and Kimberly patted his arm. “Why don’t you try again?”

He shot her a poisonous look, and Kimberly sipped her Coke with an innocent expression.

“I…” Salem raised his eyebrows. Sin and Tinzy shared a look and a nod while Kimberly blinked at him, unsurprised by Patrick’s immediate lack of a response. “I don’t want to overcomplicate things too quickly. We’ve already got Charlie’s team waiting to crucify him, and now we have the studio up our arses. It might too much pressure.”

For a minute, all his friends stared at him stupidly, even Nina who he’d known for all over three hours. Tinzy eyed him dubiously while Sin laughed in nervous disbelief, shooting a look to Kimberly who blinked rapidly, shaking her head and throwing up her hands. Salem seemed the most disinclined to actually take anything about that statement with any amount of sincerity. He just took a bite of his pizza.

“You own two houses together and an apartment,” Sin finally said incredulously.

“We technically only own the London house in both our names,” Patrick corrected.

They ignored him, and Kimberly continued, “And a dog. And you share bodyguards and Aaron whose been Charlie’s driver and friend and confidant since _forever_.”

Tinzy waved a hand a Salem, “Do the bullshit cough again.”

Salem laughed, and Patrick narrowed his eyes on Tinzy, “That’s absolutely not necessary.” Tinzy shrugged.

“Can we all agree you’re scared,” Salem finally interjected. “You’re terrified this will go wrong.”

“I’m not.”

“You _are_ ,” Sin, Tinzy, and Kimberly said in time with Salem. Patrick swept a glare over all of them.

“It’s fine,” Salem told him gently. “Everyone’s _scared_ , but you don’t have anything to be scared of. At least not when it comes to Charlie.”

“You don’t know…” Patrick started before slamming his mouth shut, because Salem _didn’t_ know. And what happened years ago between Charlie and Salem was not Patrick’s story to tell.

Salem leaned forward with a knowing glint in his eye that didn’t surprise Patrick to see in the slightest. He laced his fingers together and bit his bottom lip, hesitating for a moment before shrugging off whatever he hadn’t wanted to say. “Charlie knows how to play this game better than you do. He’s been playing longer. He’s been playing it better. And he’s been playing it. Period. You never had to, not really. So if this is going to be too much pressure for someone, it’ll be you not Charlie. And I’ll tell you something else, Charlie Beck isn’t seventeen anymore. Whatever happened three years ago will not happen now. He knows better, and he wants this more. This wouldn’t be an uphill battle across two continents and with a shit ton of dirty laundry that could get someone sent to prison. This is a fairer fight, and you’re both on equal footing with this. And I’ll tell you something else. His contract with Luka is up November 1st.”

“Is it?” Patrick frowned.

Grinning impishly, Salem nodded and took another bite of his pizza. When he finished, he eyed Patrick smugly, “By the way, Harry Benton-Sterling owes me a favor.”

“He’s still with Dissident,” Patrick pointed out.

“Is he?” Salem returned in a tone that had Patrick realizing that maybe, just maybe, Salem Petrov actually _did_ run the universe. 

* * *

 

“Do you know what time it is?” Charlie groaned as he answered the phone.

Patrick smiled and settled himself on the sofa in the living room as Ra-Ra came into the kitchen with a Guinness in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s in the other. He grimaced, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she plopped down onto the loveseat, stealing the remote from the coffee table and flipping through the channels rapidly with a delighted smile on her face. Shaking his head and sipping his own beer, Patrick glanced back down at the refurbished tablet Salem had given him earlier that day, prodding at the color settings on his sketch absently.

“You didn’t have to answer the phone, Sunshine,” Patrick replied lightly.

“Yeah, okay,” Charlie scoffed. “Did you see Salem?”

“Yeah, he gave me new tech because of _course_ he did,” he scoffed, though he didn’t _really_ mind.

Salem was Charlie’s family, and Patrick loved that Salem had all but outright told Patrick that he’d been accepted into their weird familial fold by being taken care of electronically. Charlie had told him that Salem had vetted and approved him when he’d come home from filming one night to find Bailey and Charlie watching the taped Chelsea match while Salem sat on the floor fiddling with Patrick’s laptop. “If he’s fixing your firewalls, that means he considers you his enough to protect your privacy,” Charlie had informed Patrick while Bailey nodded in understanding. Patrick had asked how he’d gotten Patrick’s password if Charlie hadn’t given it to him. Charlie and Bailey had laughed.

“Did he give you the phone charger I asked him for?”

“He gave me a new prototype phone for you,” Patrick corrected.

Charlie laughed softly, “Close enough, I guess.”

“I miss you,” Patrick said abruptly. Ra-Ra glanced over at him and mimed a kissy face, laughing silently. He flicked her off.

Humming quietly, Charlie asked, “When are you back?”

“Comic Con finished today…and I’m out tomorrow. So…Tuesday? Tuesday, yeah.”

“Okay,” Charlie sighed, “I’m like irrationally upset I can’t pick you up.”

Patrick smiled softly and ran a hand through his hair, “I know. I’ll drop by set on my way back.”

“That’s good, because I absolutely need to kiss you.”

“Do you actually?” Patrick teased.

“Um-hm,” Charlie giggled.

His lips curved into a smile at the sound, and Patrick forced himself to dive right in, clearing his throat. “There’s some things we need to talk about when I get back.” Charlie was silent for a moment, and Patrick cleared his throat and soldiered on despite how much he wanted to melt into the fabric of the sofa. “But…I just…do you want…dating? Do you want to be my…can I not use boyfriend? It just sounds really juvenile.”

“I’m twenty.” Charlie pointed out, sounding amused if anything. Patrick relaxed as Charlie laughed, “But, yeah, when I said I didn’t want to talk about it in July, I meant because I’d been in self-imposed celibacy since you broke my heart at the cast wrap party in _March_. I was a little busy trying get your cock in my ass to try and manage a relationship negotiation, Patty.”

“I knew you only wanted me for my cock,” Patrick joked.

“You caught me,” Charlie retorted lightly, and Patrick could hear the yawn through the phone.

“I should let you get to bed, boyfriend.” Judging by the smile that spread across his face, Patrick was going to be ridiculously sappy about this.

“You’re going to be ridiculously sappy about this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…so are you.”

“Okay, boyfriend, I’m going to pass out from exhaustion. Scout had me running up and down Primrose Hill for _hours_ today,” Charlie whined.

Patrick felt more relaxed than he had in days. “Go to bed, Chaz. I’ll see you in two days. I love you.”

And, shit, he hadn’t meant to say _that_. Who says shit like that while on a whole other continent?

Charlie was silent for a moment, and Patrick cringed, waiting for…anything. He didn’t even know. When he did speak, the words were soft, heartfelt, and a whispery kiss against Patrick’s ears. “Two days. I love you too, Patty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I'm such a purist pizza snob but artichoke pizza from Artichoke's Pizza is God's gift to mankind quite honestly. Secondly, the amphitheater they sit in is on the High Line, which is both my favorite park in New York and stretches from the Javit's Center where Comic Con in New York is always held down to 14th street and the Meatpacking District. If you've read the short story I posted about Kimberly Lakshmi, this happens right after she meets her future girlfriend in Chicago.
> 
> 'Pizdayob' basically means cunt fucker (of course this is the internet so take that with a grain of salt.
> 
> And about Tinzy: he's in his early thirties and grew up primarily in post-Berlin Wall Berlin. However, the wall came down only in 1989 so his parents would have spent most of their life in Soviet occupied East Berlin. He doesn't speak fluent Russian, but he can definitely curse in it.


	24. "Outta My Hands (Loco)" by Selena Gomez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie starts to get his ducks in a row

To: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

From: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Charlie Beck

Hi,

This is Patrick Gallagher. You gave me your phone number for if I needed it, and Salem told me that I should contact you. Charlie’s contract with his publicist ends November 1st from what Salem’s told me. Charlie hasn’t said anything at all, but that’s not entirely surprising since he despises talking about anything to do with his manager. I wanted to know if we could all sit down to meet and if either you could (or if you knew someone who could) look into helping Charlie.

Best,

Patrick Gallagher

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Harry:** I hate you

**Salem:** So Patty talked to you

**Harry:** The shit you get me into

**Salem:** So you’re going to do it?

**Harry:** We’ll see.

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

Cc: xavier.wilson@redlettermgmt.org

From: abrami.luka@jmpr.co.uk

Subject: Contractual negotiations

Charlie,

As you know the expiration of your contract with myself and JMPR in general is coming to an end. We need to sit down and discuss the future of our contractual relationship as soon as possible. I’ve left several messages with your assistant, Sadie, which she assures me that you have been getting.

Please get back to me,

Luka Abrami

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

…what even…

 

**Text message from Father (Sam)**

**Father (Sam):** Charlie, Xavier and Luka have contacted me about your contract expiry with JMPR

**Charlie:** I’m looking into it.

**Father (Sam):** What’s there to look into, Charlie? You need a publicist.

**Father (Sam):** You know Luka. Your family knows Luka. Xavier knows Luka. I work with JMPR as does your mother.

**Father (Sam):** Why are you dragging your heels on this?

**Charlie:** I don’t like Luka. I don’t trust Luka. He wants me to consider my future and I am.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

“It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just…I don’t love them.”

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ ffs really?

* * *

On the one hand, Charlie wanted to demand to know who scheduled business meetings on the eve of Halloween, but since he’d been dragging his heels and avoiding phone calls, emails, and Sadie’s persist reminders that Xavier and Luka wanted to speak with him and couldn’t actually summon him like a dog, Charlie knew that logically he couldn’t actually be pissed that they scheduled this meeting on Halloween.

His contract with Luka and JMPR ended in less than twenty-four hours, and Charlie couldn’t avoid the meeting any longer, which was the only reason he’d bothered to show up at all hours before he was due at Israel’s Halloween party.

That had, of course, been the intent.

Between the texts, emails, and phone calls from his father and stepmother and the outrageous hounding he’d received from Sadie including one condescending text message from his mother ordering him to answer _someone_ about what was going on with him, Charlie knew if he stepped into a meeting with Luka and Xavier anytime between then and when the contract literally sat on its deathbed, he’d come out with _something_ signed in blood.

Charlie tugged on the belt of his Thor costume as he eyed La Bodega Negra, the gritty, electric blue eclectic Mexican restaurant in Soho with a tinge of wide-eyed disbelief. The place seemed incredibly unlike Xavier and Luka’s usual go-to destination when they wanted to push Charlie into something. For a start, the places seemed more upscale with salad forks on the table and hors d’oeurves that cost almost the same for a single plate as Charlie’s favorite pair of Saint Laurent boots and considerably less neon peep show signs outside.

Who’d chosen this place?

Not that Charlie was opposed, or even _could_ be when he’d shown up in costume.

He startled as Patrick jumped out of the backseat of the SUV, resting his hands on Charlie’s hips and gently moving him aside as he fixed his green and black jacket. Scowling, Patrick tucked the shoulder length black hair behind his ears, pouting at the hair extensions as he turned to Charlie. “How do you do this? I fucking hate having my hair this long. It just gets everywhere.”

Too anxious to respond to the joke, Charlie turned around and rested his hands on Patrick’s stomach, jittery. “You don’t have to come, Patty.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes, “It’s fine, Chaz. I volunteered. Besides, if they eat you, and your half-eaten corpse fails to turn up to Israel’s party, she might actually kill you.” Charlie nodded and shrugged weakly, trying to play off the words as a joke but failing miserably enough to Patrick tucked Charlie’s hair behind his ear with a slow smile.

“Quick question: do you two _want_ to be outed as per make out session on the curb outside of a sex-shop-turned-Mexican restaurant?” Charlie and Patrick turned as one, hands falling away from each other as they shifted awkwardly.

Harry Benton-Sterling stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pocket and his khaki skinny jeans, suspenders hanging to his knees and a white button-up shirt beneath a cardigan. He even had one of those old newsboy caps from the 1920s. Hipster. Very hipster. All that was missing was the handlebar mustache. According to Irial, Harry was presumed to be the future of entertainment PR, noteworthy, reputable, trusted, genius.

Charlie didn’t like to judge, but he _looked_ more like a broke university student studying something inane like writing or philosophy that spent hours in coffee shops spending money he didn’t have on overpriced sugary confections marinated in coffee.

The bigger question, naturally, was what the hell he was doing here.

And why Patrick didn’t seem the slightest bit surprise to see him.

“Am I late?” Harry pulled an _antique pocketwatch_ out of his trouser pocket with a frown. “ _I’m_ not late. I’m right on time. Why are you staring at me like that?”

“What are you doing here?” Charlie blurted first before his lips pressed together, and the second question came tumbling out, “And do you really go professional meetings dressed like a twenty-year-old, anti-Starbucks Hipster? All that’s missing is the mustache.”

“I can’t grow facial hair,” Harry replied, letting the other comment slide. “And I like wearing this.”

“You’re one of the most respected PR fixers under forty in the _world_. Why do you dress like that?” Harry sighed with exasperation, and Patrick hid his smirk behind his hand. Charlie nodded thoughtfully, “We’ll go shopping…after you tell me why you showed up to my contract negotiation.”

“You don’t know?” Harry turned to Patrick, “You didn’t tell me he didn’t know.”

“I didn’t realize he needed to know,” Patrick replied.

Charlie frowned at him incredulously while Harry simply sighed again as though this was troublesome but far from unexpected. Since the man had close friendships with Irial who thought the world revolved around him _and_ Salem who thought he ran the world, it didn’t altogether surprise Charlie at all. Putting a hand to his head, Harry turned to Charlie, ignoring Patrick’s presence entirely. Aaron watched them from the side with obvious amusement.

“Right, you know that I worked for Dissident Management until they fired me months ago for helping Cris Emerson get out of his contract. You know that they hired me on after the fact as a consultant because they needed me to handle Cris’s coming out, most likely hoping I fucked it up, admittedly but I haven’t. He’ll be out in less than six months, the start of the New Year if there are no more surprises. You know that Salem helped me set up my start-up PR company with my best friend, Rosie Ireland. You know that I’m good at this. You don’t need to decide now, but we do need to go inside and sit down to hash this out. You’ve been avoiding this meeting for a month. You’re contract expires in less than twenty-four hours, buck up, go inside, and deal with the mess you made.”

Charlie gaped at him for a moment, taken aback.

Patrick patted his arm and leaned in to whisper softly, “You know Salem and I trust him.”

Glancing first at Patrick and then at Harry who seemed entirely unmoved by the whole display, Charlie sighed, “Will you at least take off the _Newsies_ cap? That’s just too much for me.”

“You take off hats in restaurants,” Patrick remarked, offended. “It’s _respectful_. Why is this whole generation so ugh?”

Aaron nodded at this while Harry stomped towards the entrance to the restaurant. He smiled reassuringly at Charlie and Patrick, nodding at Charlie to follow. With a hand almost but not quite touching the small of his back, Patrick guided Charlie towards the restaurant and after Harry.

They stepped into the dimly lit, grunge-chic interior lit by candles and with walls of exposed brick and faded paint. Simultaneously warm, elegant, and character-driven with a low, quiet hum, and servers that only raised their eyebrows and exchanged bemused looks when they noticed Charlie and Patrick in full costume. One girl stepped out of the kitchen in a full-scale black body suit, her red hair hanging around her shoulders, and belt around her waist.

She froze, grinned, and raised a fist in solidarity. Charlie laughed, and Patrick gave her a high-five as they walked passed, following Harry through the restaurant that had undoubtedly been _his_ choice towards the far back booth where Xavier and Luka sat uncomfortably stiff and with glasses of tequila on the table between them.

They both rose, alarmed, when they noticed Harry.

“Harry Benton-Sterling,” Luka greeted uneasily, shaking his hand.

Harry smiled wanly, “Luka Abrami. Wilson. It’s been ages.”

“Since Johanna left,” Luka reaffirmed. Harry’s smile went hard and arctic. Patrick exchanged a look.

Xavier shook Harry’s hand and smiled politely, “You’re still with Dissident.”

“Am I?” Harry inquired as they all sat.

Patrick crowded beside Charlie in the booth, the pair of them across from Luka and Xavier while Harry sat on his own on the third side of the table like the head of a mafia, a genial smile on his lips. Luka scowled at Charlie and Patrick. “You’re going as Thor and Loki? Tell me you didn’t post this online?”

“Does Instagram count?” Patrick replied lightly.

Luka and Xavier’s expressions darkened.

“They’re brothers,” Charlie expressed as their waitress – Black Widow, it seemed – came over to them with a smile.

“Can I get you men anything?” She asked politely.

Luka leaned towards Charlie. “They have a whole fandom dedicated to writing smut about the pair of them fucking.”

The waitress blinked at him in alarm before saying, “They _do_ have some intense sexual tension.”

Charlie laughed delightedly.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Can I get a spiced pear margarita?”

“’Course,” she nodded, jotting it down.

Patrick raised his eyebrows at Luka and leaned into Charlie pointedly. “What can I say? Loki’s adopted.” Xavier choked on his tequila, and Patrick turned to their infinitely amused waitress. “Hi, can I have the Aztiki, and Chaz here will have a frozen margarita please.”

Charlie pursed his lips, “To be fair, Luka, I’ve never actually read any Thorki fics. I’m more of a Stucky shipper myself.”

Harry nodded while Xavier’s face went red and biology alone seemed to prevent him from having steam coming out his nose, mouth, and ears. Luka glowered at Charlie.

Their waitress sniggered, “First of all, Stony and Clintasha are the way to go.”

Charlie made a pained sound, “My heart, love.”

“And I’ll get those drinks right out.”

“At least you don’t ship Natasha and Bucky or I’d have to ask for a divorce.”

She laughed as she whirled on her heel and marched back towards the kitchen, tucking the pen behind her ear. Charlie beamed and turned back to the rest of the table, shrugging innocently at the looks of anger and dismay on his manager and publicist’s faces. “What? I thought that was a lovely conversation about Marvel shipping.”

“I quite like her,” Patrick continued.

Charlie turned to him and nodded, “Right? She’s great!”

“Why is Harry Benton-Sterling here?” Xavier demanded.

Pursing his lips together like he didn’t know, Charlie turned to Harry, wanting to see what he’d do.

The man didn’t disappoint.

Harry cocked his head like he was thinking about it before shrugging. “I owe Salem a favor.”

“Salem Petrov,” Luka ground out, “I ought to have known he’d meddle.”

“Why would you know that?” Harry returned blankly, “Did you do something that would have made him dislike you? Because _that’s_ a dangerous past time.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, cutting conversation short and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Have you decided yet? Dinner? Appetizer?”

Luka shook his head and shared a glance with Xavier. “I expect this to be quick. Just some tostadas and guacamole for the table please?”

She looked alarmed but nodded slowly; jotting it down while Charlie gaped at him, alarmed. “It’s been ages since I’ve had Mexican food. _I’m_ eating.” Luka shot him a dark look, and Charlie ignored him as he turned to Patrick. “Can we just share the chef’s tasting menu? Eight dishes. You don’t have to overexert yourself trying to think or make decision, Patty.”

Their waitress hid a smile while Patrick shook his head and looked at her. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. And the quesadilla rustica to start as well. Harry?”

Harry nodded, “You don’t mind?”

“You don’t seem completely abominable,” Charlie returned when Patrick shifted his gaze to Charlie for his feeling on the situation. Pressing his forehead against Charlie’s shoulder as he smiled, Charlie beamed, “You’re more than welcome to join for dinner.”

“Lovely,” Harry said dryly. “In that case, can I have the braised beef tacos and a watermelon and queso salad?”

Completely taken aback by the underlying tension and behavior, she blinked at them but nodded. “Of course, I’ll get that right out.” She scuttled away radiating anxiety that Charlie could absolutely relate to…except he didn’t get to run away.

“It’s not promising you brought your…best friend to this meeting, is it?” Xavier inquired archly.

“Boyfriend,” Charlie and Patrick corrected him simultaneously. Harry sipped his drink and watched them all silently.

Xavier’s mouth snapped shut, jaw clenched tight while Luka eyed the pair of them coldly. With a blasé smile, Charlie took a sip of his frozen margarita, cocking his head as he mused on the taste before nodding and offering it to Patrick to taste. Luka’s mouth pressed into a hard line while Xavier seemed one more move away from an apoplexy, though that probably had a lot to do with Charlie’s obvious reluctance to resign with Luka and him having brought Harry to this little powwow apparently at Salem’s insistence.

Charlie had done a lot of things to piss off his manager over the years, but none had gotten him this close to the edge.

“We should talk about your contract with JMPR,” Xavier forced out.

“What contract?” Charlie asked wryly, “It expires in less than twelve hours.”

“That’s why we’re here to negotiate.”

Putting down his drink, Charlie stared at the pair of them for a moment before laughing incredulously. “The only thing you could negotiate that would make me even remotely reconsider this would be a coming out. It’s the _only_ thing that I want. It’s also, coincidentally, the only thing you won’t bend on giving me.”

Harry lowered his glass to the table slowly and turned to peer at Charlie like a particularly interesting specimen on a slide doing something totally unexpected but outrageously interesting. It both unsettled him and spurned him on, because at least _someone_ was listening to what he wanted.

Luka huffed, “We’ve been over this Charlie. And I find it hard to believe in all this time you’re still holding onto this delusion that you weren’t complicit in this.”

“And _I_ find it hard to believe you’re still using the same manipulations after all these years,” Patrick decided to intervene. He waited until their waitress had dropped off their appetizers before running away as quickly as she’d come to go on. “Your real mistake was going after Salem, because there’s a line between toeing the party line because you’re insecure or unsure, and then there’s being outright threatened and blackmailed by your own team to get their way.”

Tossing back a guacamole covered tortilla chip, Harry’s eyebrows rose as he looked at them.

Luka’s expression darkened. “That wasn’t a threat, it was a warning. Salem’s involved in who-knows-what. If it had hit the press, you both would have lost everything.”

“That’s not true,” Harry cut in, enunciating clearly. He lowered his chip to frown at Luka and Xavier before shooting Charlie a dubious look. “Have they been telling you _that_ all these years? That’s a lie. It’s your job to make sure that stories like that don’t make it to the press or if they are they’re controlled. And it’s _your_ job,” he pointed at Xavier, “to make sure whatever fallout there is from Salem’s extracurricular activities don’t affect Charlie. What the hell are you even talking about? It’s not hard to contain. I would know. The first time I ever met Salem Petrov was in the Interpol’s booking office in Paris. One story about allegations being dismissed because they couldn’t prove anything and no one’s brought it up again. That was last November. I thought you two were supposed to be good at this.”

Charlie turned to them pointedly. Luka shook his head, “The studio won’t let you come out, and even if they did, have you considered the ramifications of that on your career should you come out?”

“Have you talked to his agent about what he thinks his chances are of his career surviving a coming out unscathed?” Harry interrupted before Charlie could speak.

Xavier gritted his teeth and turned to Harry, “Why are you here again?”

“I wasn’t sure, but I’m starting to realize,” Harry nodded while Patrick gripped Charlie’s hand, the hope welling in Charlie mirrored in both of them as Harry squared off against Xavier. “I don’t think you’ve asked his agent about the effect coming out would have on his career, because you never considered allowing it. Fair enough, not many people in the industry _do_ , but that’s still a little presumptuous. Furthermore, Charlie isn’t bound to the studio in less than two years. Come March 2020 any contractual obligations he – and Patrick for that matter – have to the studio is null and void. Besides, seeding probably isn’t prohibited in his contract if it wasn’t in Cris Emerson’s, and I guarantee Breaking Fourth’s US label and management team locked him down tighter than Warner Brothers bothered to with someone who only signed a five year contract for a CW television show.”

Xavier crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Harry challengingly while Luka watched on with the air of a man who knew he’d been defeated. Good for him for recognizing defeat when it was staring him in the face.

“You think he should come out?”

“I don’t think it would be the worst thing.” Harry corrected him. “He’s been in this industry longer than you have. He’s established, well-connected, and has a ridiculous filmography that makes me a little bit exhausted just by looking at it that dates back to 1999.”

“So?” Luka returned.

“He was _one_ ,” Harry pointed out dryly.

Charlie smiled at Harry. “You looked me up?”

Harry held up his phone, “Wikipedia.”

“You should have at least gone IMDB,” Patrick pointed out while Charlie nodded, though if Wikipedia was currently unreliable there was a fairly solid chance it was because Patrick, Salem, or Poppy had done their monthly ritual of going in and changing all the information on the site for shits and giggles until a fan or administrator changed it back.

Laughing in disbelief, Xavier shook his head, “He can’t come out. And regardless of who he signs with, he _still_ can’t come out.”

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Charlie, completely ignoring Xavier and Luka. “You don’t have to sign with me. I’m not asking. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to take this job until I met asshole and dickhead over here. I have three questions that I need to be absolutely clear on.”

“Go,” Charlie nodded anxiously.

“Do you want to come out?” Charlie startled, and Harry smiled slightly. “I know, you’ve never been _asked_ that before. I’m asking.”

“I…yes,” Charlie nodded.

“Are you _ready_ to come out?”

“You just asked – ”

“Wanting to come out and being ready to are two different things. Are you ready for the comments? Are you ready for the gross press? Are you ready for the social media hate? Are you ready for religious groups to want to crucify you? Are you ready to possibly be typecast? Are you ready for the snark and the innuendo and the inappropriate press? Are you ready for everyone to know and see and possibly hate you for the person you actually are and not the carefully cultivated PR image you despise? Are you ready for that?”

Charlie’s palms sweat, and he glanced first at Patrick and then to Harry, avoiding his red-faced manager and defeated publicist entirely. He took a breath. “Some people aren’t ready for that, aren’t ready for all those things, have to work up the courage to tell the world who they really are when they shouldn’t have to tell them at all. I’m…I’m not one of those people. I get enough hate for the way I look, speak, act, and dress. I’ve seen it since I was old enough to know what it meant. I’m proud of who I am. I’m not hiding. I’m not ashamed. I’m not scared. I never have been. I was _closeted_ before I knew what that meant, and maybe I would feel differently if I got to be who I was before people started telling me I couldn’t, but that didn’t happen. People always talk about change like it’s an abstract concept, but it isn’t. It starts here with these conversations and minute, tiny decisions. I’m as ready to be out as the whole queer community is ready to be represented and talked about louder than hushed whispers and marginalized hypotheticals. As ready as my generation is for the world stop acting like cis/straight/heteronormative is the default setting of a human being. I’m ready.”

Patrick rested a hand on Charlie’s thigh and squeezed it lightly, glancing over at him with a slight, encouraging smile.

Harry nodded slowly. “Do you trust me?” Charlie froze, and Harry’s smiled wryly. “Your impassioned speech on LGBT rights, beautiful as that was, doesn’t mean anything if you don’t trust me, because this doesn’t get easier. It gets dark, twisty, and hard. There’s fights and there’s mistrust and there’s misconceptions and missteps on both our parts, and if you don’t trust me going in, you will second guess every decision I make, and I can’t have that the whole time we’re working. We’ll both lose our minds.”

“I…” Charlie hesitated and glanced over at Patrick who urged him silently to take the gift he was being offered. Turning back to Harry sharply, Charlie took a breath, “Patrick trusts you. Salem trusts you. And I trust them more than anyone else, but _I_ have a question.”

“Hmm?”

“When Salem got in bed with you, professionally, did whatever back alley, crossroads demon deal you made include your helping Bailey if he was outed?”

Leaning back against the booth, lips curving into a smirk, Harry’s fingers tapped against his glass. “You know, I told Patrick you were better at playing this game than him, and I’m always glad to know when I prove myself right.” Charlie raised his eyebrows, and Harry lifted his glass and nodded, “Yes. I sold my soul and threw my own self under a bus.”

Charlie nodded. If Salem trusted Harry to take care of Bailey the way Bailey had trusted him to get Salem out of prison, then there was no reason Charlie _shouldn’t_. He turned to Luka. “Effective tomorrow, you’re fired. I’d say it’s been a pleasure working with you, but it’s been an absolute nightmare. I hope we don’t meet again. You can both go.”

Unhappy but without argument, they departed, and Harry waited until they’d gone to turn his attention back to Patrick and Charlie. “I’ll fax you over the paperwork.”

“ _Do_ you still technically work for Dissident?” Patrick asked.

Harry shrugged, “Consulting only until Cris is out.”

“And then?”

“Breaking Fourth is probably going to ask to sign with me for publicity,” Harry told them straight. “Frankly, I don’t have the manpower for it, right now. I’m still getting on my feet. I’m a small business not a firm. It’s me. Rosie. My solicitor, Sullivan. We’re it right now.”

“Can you handle this?” Patrick pressed.

“Of course,” Harry responded. “I mean it’ll be a stretch, but I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t. Here’s the thing, I’ll need to talk to your studio and go over contracts with Xavier. I’ll have a chat with your agent. We’ll work out a plan of attack for your PR. That’s the easy part for me. The hard part for you is that you’ll need to do two things to make this work.”

“And that is?” Charlie asked.

“Come clean to Salem about why you broke up, and get on the same page with your boyfriend here about your future. Not something most people do after a couple months of dating, but you’ve had ample amounts of time to get used to the idea and will be facing a firing squad in the press if you’re not on the same page, because I’m thinking bisexual wonderboy who always has a cross around his neck and uploads pictures at family mass during holidays hasn’t told his family about his sexuality. If you haven’t told your family, you’re not about to tell the world, and with your living situation and your habits of hanging all over each other, questions will be raised that everyone needs to be prepared for. So, I’ll do my job, but you two need to go out and do yours. Sounds not as fun, huh?”

Charlie looked over at Patrick who’d stiffened beside him, his hand clenched around his glass. They’d make it through whatever _this_ was, but Charlie wasn’t sure quite yet how or what would be lost in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally cannot resist throwing in food and drinks whenever I get the chance. I'm such a foodie. It's terrible. La Bodega Negra is an actual Mexican restaurant in Soho London. I've never actually been (because I'm not a fan of Mexican food tbh) but it looks really cool.
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry about forcing my Marvel ships on you but omg Stucky.


	25. "Paris" by Fleur East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry plays ball

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Halloween with a happy crew @SightsOnSienna @CharlieBeck @13poppies @StPatty_ @Mc_QueenHolly @Taylor_Davis @DexterCarroll @MahonOftheStars @PenneyDear

 

**Charlie Beck signs with fledgling PR firm**

In a shocking business move, actor Charlie Beck announced that he had made the move from elite industry PR firm, James Monroe PR, to the fledging firm started by former Dissident Management PR fixer, Harold Benton-Sterling. The young actor has worked with JMPR since he turned thirteen and made the move to Disney Channel. He made no official statement behind the switch but sources say that he claimed he didn’t trust his longtime publicist, Luka Abrami. Both Beck’s father and fellow actor, Samuel Beck, and his mother and haute couture fashion designer, Charlotte Harboune, are signed with JMPR. Both declined comment on their son’s abrupt change in representation especially to a young, untried company. Sterling and Ireland, Benton-Sterling’s young firm, has been a registered and licensed PR firm since June this year when Benton-Sterling was fired from Dissident Management before being rehired as a consultant. Dissident has refused to comment on the reasons behind their separation from the notable young fixer, but the company’s internationally acclaimed boyband, Breaking Fourth, confirmed that they would be signing with Sterling & Ireland to handle their public relations by the start of the new year.

 

**actualsunshinechaz**

Ok…but Crisial shippers have been speculating for AGES that Harry Benton-Sterling was fired for orchestrating a coming out for Cris Emerson and was rehired to manage it.

**herewegoagainethereal**

Ok…but Crisial shippers are crazy

**therealworldruns**

Are they actually because Cris Emerson literally just confirmed he has a bf? On YouTube? After that Kik video of him and that guy leaked…

#im just saying #if we’re going to look at the angles #then let’s look at all of them #crisial

**youknowiknow**

This is disgusting! Speculating on people’s sexuality is absolutely vile! If they haven’t EXPRESSLY SAID IT then you shouldn’t be talking about it like a sideshow!

**21greatnoble**

That…is…backwards

#what the fuck #that kind of thinking is why the closet exists at all #as a gay man: speculate away

**dorian_wildechild**

^^^ this

#props to Charlie #btw #super proud of him making that kind of leap #chatrick

 

To: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

From: hou.li.min@cwtv.com

Subject: Charlie Beck PR

Harry,

I understand the ink is still drying on the paperwork you’ve signed with Charlie Beck, but both myself and the studio executives would like to sit down with you about the future with which you envision for Charlie. Naturally everyone is curious as to why he would leave such a reputable and long standing firm to throw his lot in with you. I’m wary, frankly. It’s not a secret what you’ve been doing with Cris Emerson and Breaking Fourth’s publicity, and as such it’s imperative we speak as soon as possible. Let me know,

Hou Li Min

Unit publicist, Ethereal, CW TV

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Harry:** The shit I let you talk me into

**Salem:** The shit I could get into if people found out how I help you out.

**Harry:** Fair point

**Salem:** Umhmm

* * *

“Oh my God,” Rosie sputtered, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth as she gaped at Harry, dumbfounded, “you look like a fucking professional.”

The irony, of course, from that statement came from the fact that she’d said that in full view of the receptionist at Warner Bros UK while she herself looked like she’d dragged herself out of bed and pulled on the first articles of clothing that her fingers had touched.

But, then, Rosie was a writer.

Harry supposed he was lucky that she’d shown up in a long black skirt and jumper that probably belonged to Kanani Kapuana rather than her usual tendency to appear to professional meetings in ripped jeans and ironic t-shirts. Her hair, naturally, looked a bit of a windswept mess, and he eyed it pointedly, taking her coffee cup as she huffed and twisted it up sharply into a messy and no less unprofessional mop of a bun on the top her head, pieces flying here and there.

The receptionist with her sharp, sleek, pulled back hair and thin, ruby red lips, narrowed her eyes at both of them but seemed generally less prickly than the usual brand he dealt with.

As much as Harry didn’t want to admit Charlie Beck might have had a point when he’d spent the previous evening rifling through Harry’s wardrobe and wrangling his stylist to bolster what he’d culled…well…Charlie Beck might have had a point.

Thursday had been spent fielding phone calls during the day while the evening had seen Charlie and Patrick inviting themselves over to Harry’s secret Highgate abode where Patrick had made dinner in the kitchen while casually suggesting to Charlie that they get a cat (or maybe a pug) whilst Harry had sat on his bed, rattling off questions to Charlie as the man had torn through his wardrobe with abandon, declaring halfway through the endeavor, “I need to call Jazz. She needs to come over here and save you from yourself.”

And so she had.

Harry had met Azadi’s lead stylist when he’d personally hired her on to help Alina Rosen with her wardrobe after Yasmin had shredded their previous stylist and boldly declared during a tour they weren’t even headlining that she refused to work with the woman. Jazz hadn’t come highly recommended, but Yasmin had taken one glance at her look-book and told Harry that that was the stylist she wanted, the one who’d make Azadi.

Jazz had come over with Patrick’s close friend, _Ethereal_ ’s screenwriter, and her partner, Israel, in toe carrying several bags of high-priced designer clothing that ze’d promptly dropped, rolled hir eyes, and stalked out of the room to help Patrick make spaghetti bolognese.

He’d ignored her while quizzing Charlie about his personal life, and Jazz had taken one look at him, tuck a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear and announced, “I’m thinking classic British fashion. Tweed. Scarves. Jumpers. Brown trench coats. Burberry. A bit like Arthur Bailey, really.” Harry had choked. Charlie had frowned. Jazz had shrugged even as she nodded determinedly, “Only not a tight-assed.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to win the fight, Harry had let it go.

By the end of the night, he’d been waving goodbye to newsboy caps, cardigans, and khakis to find his closet replaced by Burberry suits, scarves, and coats. A fair few Armani jumpers. Saint Laurent boots. And fair too many pairs of expensive Alexander McQueen trousers.

The whole process had completely overwhelmed him, and Harry had spent most of the night curled up in the rattiest pair of threadbare sweatpants he owned and a t-shirt he’d bought for five dollars at a thrift shop to counteract the infectious invasion of designer apparel.

His sticker shock and mortification hadn’t stopped him from pulling on the entire Burberry fall collection to chat with the studio about their contractual dos and don’ts when it came to Charlie. Bailey and Charlie would be so proud.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist snapped impatiently.

Harry studied her balefully before deciding to let it go. “Harry Benton-Sterling. I’m here for a meeting with Hou Li Min and an assortment of balding, middle-aged executives in thousand dollar suits with sticks up their asses who want to control the whole wide world like they own it. Yeah?”

Her mouth dropped open, and she cleared her throat nervously. “Benton-Sterling, right, yes, I’ll just go tell Mr. Lloyd that you’re in, shall I?” Hopping out of her seat, the woman scurried away while Rosie scoffed dismissively and plopped down in one of the plush seats to comb through Tumblr with a harassed look on her face as if she’d been personally offended.

“You certainly don’t disappoint.”

Harry whirled around to narrow his eyes on the man standing in doorway with a travel mug in one hand, a mobile phone in the other, and a wry smile on his lips. The suit wasn’t cheap, but he looked as mussed as Rosie and rapidly approaching his forties in spectacular style and without reservation. A receding hairline he didn’t try to hide, graying at the edges of his russet, wavy locks, and a salt and pepper beard and mustache that sat well on his hefty frame, though he didn’t seem overweight…simply _broad._ Harry had also never met him before and couldn’t imagine why he’d have disappointed him.

The man’s eyes darted up to meet Harry’s. “I’m Pete. Peter Wienbrook.”

“Patrick’s manager,” Harry realized. “You work with Green-Wright Management. Out of Dublin.”

Pete’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “You’re well-studied.”

“For being so young, you mean?” Harry asked archly, not offended but certainly not thrilled about the remark. Maybe, just maybe, Charlie had been onto something with the clothes.

Harry had never backed down or been intimidated by anyone in the industry before, no matter the years of experience they had on him (Johanna had, in fact, scolded him when he’d shrugged off a dressing down about the lecture on his approach to stunting when a management and PR mogul, Jesse Godfrey, had let him have it at a music award show). Still, the confidence he often had to force seemed woven into the threads of the expensive Burberry wool attire. Clothes didn’t make the man, but they certainly helped support him.

“Do you want something specific?”

“Just to get a good look at you is all,” Pete remarked wryly. “Thought I ought to meet the man I’ll probably be working with a great deal.”

Agreed.

“Has Patrick contacted you about what he wants to do?”

Pete laughed and shook his head. “Patrick doesn’t contact anyone about anything if he doesn’t have to. He hates public relations.”

“He’s in the wrong industry, then,” Rosie remarked without looking up from her phone.

“He does enough to get by,” Pete stated, unconcerned about his client’s reticence. Harry raised his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer to his original question, and Pete met his eyes and sighed. “I know what you’re after. Knew it from the moment I saw those boys together, but he’s a devout Irish Catholic from a devout Irish Catholic family, and it’s been less than thirty-six hours since you’re hostile takeover of Charlie-boy’s publicity. Bit soon, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think after eight years in the closet _anything_ counts as ‘too soon.’” Harry returned evenly. Pete’s expression didn’t even twitch, and Harry went on pointedly, “And do you know what _I’ve_ done in the last thirty-six hours?”

“Too much?” Pete suggested with a tone that bordered on condescending like he couldn’t possibly contemplate the idea of hard work.

Between managing a boybander’s coming out, his band’s press dramas, and now Charlie Beck’s team of assholes, nitwits, and homophobes, Harry didn’t have the time or the energy to deal with a condescending dismissal of everything he was, did, and accomplished. Harry didn’t have the patience for industry elitism, pretending they were better or wiser than him because they’d worked in the industry longer.

Artists and up-and-coming industry professionals wanted a game change, and that meant the old sage middle-aged white men who sat on their thrones and moved people like pawns in a game of chess had to go.

Harry might be the first in line to wave them goodbye with a genial smile and a predatory glare.

“If you can’t handle your client, I’d be more than happy to, but I’m not sitting on my arse all day letting at twenty-five year old woman in stilettos and a cocktail dress take charge of my life. I work. And it won’t be _fun_ juggling a boyband, a footballer, Charlie _and_ Patrick, but I’ll manage. Hell, I managed heavier workloads in university while working part-time at my dad’s pub. You just let me know, because Patrick Gallagher _will_ return _my_ phone calls promptly and without the need to negotiate a ceasefire first.”

Pete’s face went slack, and Rosie tipped her head back to raise her eyebrows at Harry.

“Mr. Benton-Sterling?” Harry turned, and the receptionist waved her hand, “They’ll see you now.”

Following her directions and leaving Pete behind, Harry found himself in a sleek, impressive boardroom with large floor to ceiling windows and a collection of Daiki Company office technology. The Daiki Company who Harry technically, on paper, represented, though it had taken a fair bit of finagling to make sure _that_ announcement stayed off the radar and out of the news. It would be next to impossible to find unless someone intentionally went digging, but Harry doubted no one would any time soon.

‘They’ consisted of three men – middle-aged, as expected – men in pressed pinstriped suits and varying patterned and multicolored silk neckties. Harry had done his research when he’d been trembling and avoiding the looming presence of the thousand pound suits tucked away in his closet; he recognized each of them on sight without introductions necessary. With graying hair, a trimmed dark beard, and a slim figure was Maurice Cane, a Cambridge-educated black man who’d run the legal department of Warner Bros. in the UK longer than Harry had been alive. Beside him, stout, bald with a spit-shined red scalp, and a pair of Dolce and Gabbana eyeglasses was Timothy Harrington, the director of public relations. And the third and least imposing figure but certainly with the most impressive scowl, was a short man with stubble as bone white as his hair and painfully lacking a cigar and velvet dressing gown to complete the set of the mood. He was Evan Konesco, the UK branch director of operations and personnel.

If anyone in the room seemed less moved by the three men’s power play than Harry, it was the tiny, petite Chinese woman he assumed was Hou Li Min. Delicate, beautiful, but with a flawless kind of striking perfection that made her seem dangerous, Li Min stood at the end of the table with her manicured hands resting on the manila folder on the glass tabletop with her black bob held back by an antique comb and her slender frame tucked in a fitted navy suit-dress with a cardigan over it. Harry couldn’t help think that Charlie would absolutely lose it, knowing his irrational disdain for cardigans.

“Have a seat,” Konesco instructed with a tone of superiority that rankled.

Rosie’s eyebrows rose as she looked to Harry. He cocked his head and studied the man. “Oh. You’re posturing.”

How disappointing.

“Excuse me?” Konesco retorted.

Harrington sighed and looked to Li Min. “Could you go grab us some water, darling?”

Li Min scowled but nodded. Harry cut her off, holding up a hand and shaking his head. “That’s not her job. I thought you were in charge of public relations, Mr. Harrington. Surely you know sexism in the workplace is both toxic and grounds for a lawsuit.”

“That’s Cane’s specialty,” Rosie remarked as she pulled out a seat and sat down, letting it be clear to everyone she’d done it on her own terms and not because she’d been ordered to.

Cane glowered. Li Min sat down, crossing her legs and watching the scene play out impassively. Harry sighed with exasperation. “I worked in one of the most highly recommended management agencies in the country. I know what posturing looks like, I just wasn’t aware we both had time to play that game.”

“Yes,” Li Min added. “I have work today. On set. Interviews don’t set themselves.”

Konesco nodded, “Quite right, quite right. Let’s get to it, shall we?” They all sat, and Konesco eyed Harry across the table. “Straight to the heart of it, then?”

“No bullshit,” Harry deadpanned.

Li Min nodded and pulled out a ballpoint pen and notepad, her eyes moving between them as Konesco laughed.

“Man after my own heart. Fine, let me be frank, if two television stars want to screw each other offset in their downtime, it’s none of my business. I don’t care. What people do behind closed doors, well, that’s _their_ problem. What people do in front of the cameras…you see, that becomes _ours_. You see what I’m getting at, Sterling?”

“Spell it out for me,” Harry returned.

Konesco’s face dropped, and Harrington decided to interrupt and clarify.

If they’d been expecting Harry’s submission, they’d be sadly disappointed.

“Is it your client’s intention to institute a coming out?”

“We haven’t fully looked into the options, but it is something Charlie’s expressly admitted to be interested in pursing, yes.”

“We’re afraid we’re not ready to support such a…risky endeavor at this time.”

“And what time would you be ready?” Harry asked archly, unwilling to let them get away with trying to play the good guy when, really, they were being controlling dicks. He could deal with blatant assholeishness, but not underhanded double entendre disguised as martyrdom. “Or would you ever be at all?”

Harrington smiled thinly, “Hou, are the producers ready to deal marketing and the potential fallout of such a major star of the series coming out as gay?”

Li Min pursed her lips. “They haven’t particularly looked into as they hadn’t been considering it an option, but, as far as I’m aware, they wouldn’t particularly be amenable, especially as they’re…resistant to the blatant displays of affection between Patrick and Charlie as it is.”

“And are you equipped to deal with marketing a coming out in addition to your other duties at the show’s unit publicist?”

“That’s not really my job, sir,” Li Min frowned. “I’m equipped to market a show, not it’s controversial stars.”

He waved a hand imperiously, “So there you have it. This is a production studio not a charitable organization. We’re not here to help your client find himself; we’re here to sell films and television shows to the public. Gay doesn’t sell, and even if it did, it would still sell when we weren’t trying to promote an already controversial television show to the US and UK public forum. We’re not asking Charlie Beck to stay closeted forever. We’re telling you that we’ve contacted his management – ” Harry tensed, gritted his teeth, and shared an irritated look with Rosie “ – and have agreed to back them and their brand image of Charlie Beck as their interests align with our own. It’s business, Sterling. I’m sure you understand. Come May 2020 when the show ends and his contractual obligations to this studio and that show are terminated, you’ll be free to do as you please until then…”

Harrington and Konesco looked to Cane who slid a contract across the table towards them. “I’m afraid with your…background, Mr. Sterling, we must insist on documentation and contractual agreements to fulfilling the appearance clause verbally agreed upon in this meeting and in conjunction with Red Letter Management’s own policy.”

“I don’t remember _agreeing_ to anything, verbally or otherwise,” Harry stated, unmoved. Fucking Red Letter and fucking Xavier. “And, with all do respect, I’m not allowing Charlie to sign anything, especially not if it, as you say, only reinforces a preexisting contract. What’s the point?”

“Assurances on our behalf of your cooperation, which, by your own history, certainly isn’t guaranteed,” Cane remarked.

Nice.

Harry wasn’t sure how Dissident had gotten around their gag order, but fuck knew Harry had every intention of suing once he figured it out.

“I’m assuming that has a clause about the behavior of Charlie towards Patrick in public?”

Harrington smiled wanly, “It’s nothing that Red Letter won’t handle amongst themselves, but as we said: assurances.”

“And as _I_ said, I won’t let him sign it. I won’t even present it, and I _have_ read his contract with the studio. You can’t compel me to do anything, because Xavier and Luka wrote up a lovely little clause that said they have primary and sole authority over the public image and brand image of their client so long as it doesn’t directly jeopardize the studio or show’s reputation. You want _insurance_ that Charlie will be under your thumb if Red Letter proves they can’t control him as they often do when his massive PR stunts end with him publicly snogging men on the cover of tabloid magazines. However, it seems you’ll just have to trust them not to screw up, won’t you? As I won’t be bullied and threatened. I’m young, but I’m not new to this, I’m not a child, and I’m not intimidated. It’s been lovely, but Rosie and I have to go.”

Harry nodded at Rosie, and they rose, ignoring the infuriated looks on Harrington and Konesco’s faces while Cane’s remained neutral as he gripped his pen so tightly it was a wonder it hadn’t snapped yet.

Li Min watched them speculatively as they exited.

Rosie linked arms with Harry, thumbing through her phone and waiting until they’d gotten in the elevator to turn to him.

“You’re not surprised.”

“No.” And he wasn’t. He’d sat down with Xavier already and listened to him spew absolute nonsense the other day and dealt with the crushing blow of Sullivan explaining until something happened that negatively and gravely impacted Charlie’s public brand image and/or personal/professional relationships, his management had primary control over his image. Harry had expected it, expected the studio’s response, but he hadn’t yet come up with an idea of how to deal with it.

Except that he might have.

It was just technically illegal.

“You have a plan?”

“Not yet,” Harry remarked. Rosie raised her eyebrows, and Harry admitted unwillingly, “Sometimes, if the game is rigged against you, you have to…un-rig it.”

Rosie fell silent for a minute, studying him. “You’re going to do something crazy, aren’t you?”

“Too soon to tell. This might be able to be resolved peacefully, but if it can’t be…or it doesn’t…I’m gonna cheat.”

Sighing, Rosie stepped out of the elevator, phone already to her ear as she moaned dramatically, “I’m calling Sully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I did all kinds of research on the CW for this. They're owned by Warner Brothers but, mind you, my knowledge of contract negotiations is subject to research only.


	26. "Wild Things" by Alessia Cara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coming out talk that really doesn't include talking

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“I admire what you’re trying to do here, but it kind of sucks and I refuse on the principle of the fucking thing” X’D

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@CharlieBeck don’t laugh someone’s about to die. Do you have any idea how long I worked on this scene?

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** Are you just going to never bring it up?

**Charlie:** I don’t want to pressure him

**Salem:** I think we’re passed that, don’t you?

**Salem:** You need to talk about this.

**Salem:** Do not ignore me Charles Daniel Beck!

**Charlie:** I really dont want to talk about it

**Salem:** Because you’re afraid he’ll say he doesn’t want to?

**Charlie:** No.

**Salem:** So…yes then. I’m judging you right now, fyi.

 

**Peeeetra (@P3traSylv3str)**

Met @StPatty_ @SightsOnSienna while they were filming in Hyde Park ^.^

 

**Louisa luvs u :* (@tit4tay)**

@P3traSylv3str and was he eyefucking Charlie Beck as hard as he does in interviews?

 

**Ethereal Ellie (@killiansbae)**

@tit4tay that’s bullshit. Mind your own fucking business and stop being disgusting.

 

**Louisa luvs u :* (@tit4tay)**

@killiansbae wow should I just ignore the incredibly homophobic bs you just dropped or…?

 

**Give me some Ciara (@Con_Tessa)**

@tit4tay yes the eyefucking, domestic sexual tension was off the charts @killiansbae **(** **ง** **︡’-‘︠)** **ง**

 

**Reconciliation for Patrick Gallagher and Evelyn Merritt?**

After calling it quits on their two-year relationship in March, the _Ethereal_ stars, Patrick Gallagher and Evelyn Merritt, swore there was no reconciliation on the horizon. But we think the couple doth protest too much. Reps from the show confirmed the pair have been getting cozy with each other again, and we even spotting having a coffee outside of the Shoreditch coffee house, Grind, sharing a pain au chocolat, coffees, and a laugh. Is there a return of our favorite couple in the near future? We certainly hope so, but for now we’ll just have to wait and see.

**maribelleanne commented:**

Is this serious? What even is entertainment news? They were literally filming. That picture was taken SECONDS after the director yelled cut.

**anonymous commented:**

Hahahahaha. But seriously, can they please? They were so cute together!

**anonymous commented:**

Sigh. What the fuck is this bs?

**nicimuesee commented:** damage control. he and Charlie were spotted 2gether at the gym.

* * *

“How upset would you be if I killed your sister?”

Charlie took a moment to let himself overcome the sheer _shock_ that that statement had been made from Patrick to him and not the other way around. No the other way around with Maggie Gallagher had been the single, go-to chief tabloid stooge in during this increased stunting and secretive bullshit that had been handed down post his PR coup. Somehow his management – and the studio, because Charlie wasn’t an idiot – had come to the conclusion if the estranged sibling of the man he was (rumored to be, at least in the press) fucking, then it would be more believable.

For once, they might have come to a reasonable conclusion.

“Why what’s she done now?” Charlie asked in confusion, winding an arm around Patrick’s shoulders as his boyfriend came up to stand between his legs where Charlie sat on a bench on the periphery of the makeshift and near empty outdoor dance floor. “Is that mulled wine?”

“Cidre,” Patrick answered, offering Charlie his Styrofoam cup. Charlie placed his beer on the counter and took a sip of the heady, rich cinnamon-and-apple tasting heated beverage and nodded. He clutched the cidre to his chest with a tentative smile. Patrick sighed and reached for Charlie’s abandoned beer, “We’re switching then?”

“You know that,” Charlie pouted.

“I did,” he confirmed with a wry grin, winking at Charlie as he tossed back a gulp of the authentic German beer. Charlie laughed and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth while Patrick shook his head and pointed towards the dance floor. “Your sister decided to get me involved in her passive-aggressive social media battle with Soren. The studio and Li Min will be absolutely thrilled to find a picture of your sister planting one on me in the middle of the dance floor on Instagram. Me, on the other hand, not so much. The last thing I wanted was Cris texting me about Soren demanding answers about mine and Poppy’s relationship.”

“I could always tell him we’re screwing,” Charlie pointed out before frowning and cocking his head, eyes narrowing on his boyfriend. “Wait. My sister took a picture of the two of you lip locking, put it on Instagram, and, let me guess, tagged the location as Winter Wonderland?”

Patrick pursed his lips, eyes alight with mischief, as his sipped his beer and shrugged. “Is that a problem?”

It wasn’t for _Charlie._

Winter Wonderland had been a spur of the moment decision when they’d wrapped filming a little earlier than expected. It had been mutually agreed upon by the entirety of the cast who’d been present, and plans had been made by shouting across the costuming and makeup departments to meet up at eight in the Bavarian Village for authentic German beer, bratwurst, mulled wine, and questionably good live music. Poppy had been invited along when Charlie had been pulled aside after an already implosive interview by Li Min and his manager and asked – _ordered_ – him to be pictured with up-and-coming actress and an occasional _Ethereal_ ‘guest star’ Vanessa Parrish at the event.

Stunting had taken more than a little bit of fun out of the outing, and Charlie had been pouting since he’d arrived at the Christmas destination at half past six with Vanessa in tow. For half an hour, they’d wandered around being pictured together ‘spontaneously’ before Patrick had crashed with Poppy and casually dismissed a very awkward Vanessa. Poppy, feeling bad for Vanessa, had kindly latched onto her and dragged her around with them as they’d explored and gone on a couple of rides.

Patrick’s frustration with Poppy didn’t come as a surprise. It wasn’t Vanessa’s fault that Charlie had to stunt until Harry inevitably found a way around the numerous contractual restrictions, but it was Poppy’s fault that the woman Patrick’s sister would make an excessive number of innuendo regarding her and Charlie’s nonexistent sex life was still trailing them like an unwanted, oppressive shadow shaped an awful lot like Charlie’s manager and the studio at large.

Getting photographed with Poppy at the same location as Charlie and Vanessa, nearly an hour before the rest of cast was due to meet up certainly wouldn’t endear Li Min to him.

That had most likely been the point, though. Patrick had steadily been becoming shrewder with his machinations since the studio had officially taken a ‘you’re not together, you don’t know anything, do not engage’ stance, shifting from an unknown neutrality to active restrictive force.

Charlie took a sip of his mulled wine and chose not to answer the question that had been asked.

“I forgot to ask,” Patrick hedged, “how was the interview?”

Huffing angrily, Charlie sputtered, unsure how to express his frustration, before released a low, pained ‘ugh’ that had Patrick leaning back slightly to fully take in Charlie’s expression of irritation. “Fucking ridiculous,” Charlie spat furiously, “even Israel was pissed, did ze tell you that?”

“I haven’t talked to hir,” Patrick admitted. “Didn’t even realize ze was on set today?”

“Ze wasn’t,” Charlie hissed, shaking his head. “And I’m sure Li Min would rather that ze hadn’t been. Is almost cut the whole interview when she got there.”

Patrick slipped his arm around Charlie’s waist, hand dipping beneath the numerous layers Charlie had piled on to protect from the light but ceaseless rain and frigid iciness in the air. He shivered at the cold touch before melting against it, pulling Patrick tighter towards him as he took a sip of his cidre. Patrick watched Charlie over the rim of the cup. “What happened Chaz?”

“I guess there are levels to ‘yeah you can technically ask this but know I’m going to tell you to shove it up your arse,’ you know? Like we’re _supposed_ to be talking about the show or character development or Israel’s unreal ability to world build that nobody appreciates as much as they should, I mean BBC compared it to _Doctor Who_ yesterday, which, isn’t good world building _at all_. They’re constantly changing the rules! When there _are_ rules – ”

“Chaz,” Patrick interrupted lowly, sipping his beer and waiting for him to find his way back from his tangent.

Charlie struggled for a moment before nodding and getting a grip. “Right. Since Harry might actually kill someone if they had the audacity to ask about my sexuality, sex life, or dating history in an interview about the _show_ , I guess they decided the next best thing would be to have me pull a Benedict Cumberbatch and drag fanfiction on national television. I don’t know who thought that was a good idea, because I’d never deny anyone their kinks – ”

“I’d hope not,” Patrick said, his tone carefully blasé as his hand slithered from Charlie’s side into his pants, his middle finger dipping between Charlie’s crack to press against the jeweled buttplug that had been in his ass all day before Charlie even caught the intent.

His breath caught with a hiss as he jolted at the delicious press against his prostate. Charlie plastered himself against Patrick’s side and pressed his face to Patrick’s neck to muffle a needy moan. His hips canted against Patrick’s hip, looking for relief for his aching cock and not finding nearly enough. Patrick answered Charlie by pulling his arm away entirely, watching Charlie smugly as he ran the hand through Charlie’s hair softly and took a drink of his beer, lips curling up in an evil, satisfied smirk.

Lovely, he’d been doing such a good job pretending he _didn’t_ have a plug pressed against his prostate and no relief for his hard-on anywhere in sight.

“Bastard,” Charlie forced out through his teeth. “I’ve been half-hard all day. You tease me in _public_. You should give me a blowjob in the bathroom as an apology.”

Patrick shook his head profusely. “We’re out socializing. Having fun.”

“Blowjobs are fun,” Charlie grumbled.

“So is watching you use sheer willpower to keep yourself from shooting off in your trousers in front of a thousand people just by humping my leg like a dog.”

“Bastard,” Charlie repeatedly.

Patrick grinned, “Technically.” Sinking his hand in Charlie’s hair and tugging it sharply enough that Charlie keened, back arching as he humped his crotch against Patrick’s hip again, Patrick continued lightly, “You were saying about fanfiction.”

_Was talking necessary_?

Placing his beer down and keeping on hand tightly gripping Charlie’s hair, Patrick turned and stepped closer to Charlie, letting Charlie cant his hips against him as he tipped his head back into the hand holding his hair, closing his eyes and running his hands over Patrick’s chest and down his abdomen to slip beneath his shirt and hold his waist. “Talk, Chazza.”

_Fucking hell, I can hardly_ breathe _Satan._

Flicking his eyes open to meet Patrick’s heated gaze, Charlie licked his lips and deliberately steadied his breathing before finally managing to force out, “I don’t…”

Jesus fuck they were in public, and he sounded as wrecked as he probably looked.

He certainly _felt_ wrecked.

Wrecked enough that if Patrick ordered him to drop his trousers and bend over the table, ass up, and let Patrick fuck him right out in the open for everyone around to see, well, Charlie had absolutely no problem with that whatsoever. Actually, as a general rule, he wouldn’t have much of a problem with it except for the sheer headache he’d get when Harry chewed him out.

Peering around, Patrick sighed like the whole situation was beneath him before tightening his grip in Charlie’s hair. His mouth dropped open as he moaned, and Patrick swept in, giving Charlie a dirty kiss that had him grinding his aching dick against Patrick, hands gripping his boyfriend’s waist tightly enough it was sure to bruise.

Without any pretense whatsoever, Patrick slid his hand back into Charlie’s trousers and forgoing any teasing to tap meaningfully against the butt plug. Charlie whimpered in frustration, and Patrick laughed against his lips, whispering into his mouth.

“Right here?”

“If you don’t fucking _do_ something – ” Charlie’s annoyed words bit off abruptly as Patrick pressed the plug in further without any warning, hitting and holding against Charlie’s prostate. It would be painful if not unbearable if Patrick hadn’t spent the whole day getting Charlie feverishly worked up. His body arched, head refrained from tipping back by the hand still anchored in Charlie’s hair, holding his head still.

“Shameless boy,” Patrick admonished softly, giving Charlie a wet kiss. “Cum for me, then if you’re gagging for it that badly, Chaz,” he said with words too callous for the painfully affectionate tone.

The order went straight to Charlie’s throbbing cock, and despite being sorely unhappy about still having three layers of clothes between them and too many people with camera phones surrounding them, he came, Patrick catching the cries of his orgasm in his mouth and muffling them.

Charlie sagged against Patrick as he came down, pressing his forehead against Patrick’s shoulder and grimacing as Patrick stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I can’t believe you did that to me, you absolute asshole,” Charlie grumbled without any real heat and a smirk tugging at his lips.

Patrick sniggered and picked up his beer to take a sip, hiding just how much their little display had affected him. Their position hid Patrick’s own hard-on well enough, but Charlie was evil enough to press a kiss to Patrick’s throat, smirking as he felt his pulse jump when Charlie palmed him through his jeans.

“Feel better?” Patrick returned evenly.

_No, not really_.

Now Charlie’s pants were sticky with cum and his length still half-hard from the plug periodically prodding his prostate when he shifted.

Huffing, Charlie looked up at Patrick, plucking the beer from his fingers and taking a gulp before handing it back with a scowl. German beer was vile, but he’d need alcohol to make it through the rest of the evening.

Two more fucking hours of socializing _at least_.

God help him.

“I could kill you,” Charlie muttered.

“Um-hm,” Patrick carded his fingers through Charlie’s hair. “What were you saying about fanfiction?”

Letting the topic change rest as he forced himself to relax, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s waist and pressing an ear over his heart as Patrick ran his fingers through his hair. The pitchy sounds of the live singer doing renditions of old school Hip-Hop washed over him as he took a long breath of the chilly, moist London air.

“Why do people want to talk about it? It’s not for us. It’s not even about us. It’s a creative outlet that allows fans to be active and play a role in something that they love and that inspires them. For most people, it allows them to access things marginalized by society _like_ sexuality, gender orientation, romantic orientation, racial imbalance in the entertainment industry. It looks at things people don’t or won’t or can’t talk about. It’s amazing. I mean Israel _reads_ fanfiction of the show to see what people expect and want from the show’s direction and its characters. Did you know that Aisha’s character, Fiona, was intentionally cast as a black woman _because_ people made a point about there being so few POC homosexuals represented in popular culture? Did you know that Naoise was intentionally written as looking somewhat Asian because of the disparity of popular culture only ever popularizing – and I use that word _very very_ loosely – Caucasian homosexuality? Israel read it in a group chat before casting for Naoise had even _happened_.

“Why anyone thought I’d willingly tow the party line and talk shit about fanfiction and fanart, I don’t know, but I hoped they learned something. I nearly _lost_ it, Patty,” Charlie explained while Patrick studied him wordlessly, allowing him to finish before making any judgments or commentary. “If people want to write about our characters screwing or _us_ screwing or Killian and Ciara screwing – ”

“They’re _siblings_ ,” Patrick expressed uncomfortably.

“They’re _fictional_ , and even if they weren’t it’s not our business. Not when draw pictures of me tied to a bed with a dildo in my ass while you fuck my mouth – ”

Patrick narrowed his eyes, “Let’s not. That drawing was disturbingly accurate. I have so many questions about it.”

“And not if they have you begging me to give it to you while calling ‘Daddy.’” Patrick made a face but didn’t otherwise disagree. “They stay in their own lane. They tag their shit, and they post it in places for fans not for us. I don’t want to talk about it, and if I know about it, then I sure as shit went looking and not the other way around. Even if it bothered me – which it _doesn’t_ – I certainly wouldn’t indulge their games by dragging fans who are interested in it. You know why?”

“Because it’s not our business?”

“Exactly,” Charlie huffed. “Israel started yelling at Li Min in the middle of the interview. They had to cut it, which was probably for the best since I’m fairly certain I looked murderous by the fifth time I told her that I have no problem with anyone and how the choose to express their creativity and passion for either the show or me. Harry got really quiet and started aggressively texting someone. Li Min tried to talk to him, and he told her that if she had anything to say that she could call him and schedule an appointment since they evidently didn’t have an amicable enough professional relationship to precipitate important conversations out of courtesy.”

“So he said ‘fuck you.’”

“Essentially.”

Patrick tensed and looked down at Charlie who could tell in seconds his afterglow was about to be viciously wiped out of existence by whatever words Patrick was so uncertain of giving voice to.

Charlie knew what they were regardless.

“He texted me the other day.” Charlie reached back for his cidre and downed the remainder, waiting tensely. Patrick sighed, “You haven’t asked.”

“I love Christmas, Patty. It might ruin my holiday cheer if I start asking questions guaranteed to start arguments.”

“Please don’t be like that,” Patrick pleaded.

“Then I’d really rather not talk about it,” Charlie said bitterly. Patrick watched him dolefully but evidently still determined to continue the conversation. “What do you want me to say, Patty? That I’m happy about your unwillingness to come out? I’m not. That I’m okay with it? I’m not.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you to stay in the closet, Chaz. Just that I can’t come out with you!”

“And what happens when people start asking questions about our relationship _then_?” Charlie demanded, “Do I start stunting with men instead of women so that you can save face? Do you get some PR girlfriend your manager hooks you up with for mutual ‘no homo’ PR? How deep does this rabbit hole go, Patty? Oh wait, you don’t know.”

Patrick ran a hand through his hair while Charlie watched him balefully. At another time, Charlie might take the time to admire that they could have this hushed argument while still wrapped in each other’s arms, but he was too furious to do anything but want to hang Patrick off the Empire State Building by his goddamned toenails at the moment.

“No, I _don’t_ know. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before, Charlie.”

“Had a relationship while pretending to be straight as an arrow? Want to indefinitely hide said relationship so people indefinitely think you’re straight as an arrow?” He asked archly, because, actually, they both knew he’d done _both_ of those things before. Patrick kept saying it was different now than it was with Torin, but Charlie didn’t see how. “I’ve been my own dirty secret for twenty-one years, and now you want me to be yours. And that’s all I’ll be whether or I’m out or not. It’s not really ‘out’ if I’m still pretending we’re besties and I’m out fucking the entire British countryside, is it?”

Slamming down his cup in a spectacularly anticlimactic display that to the countertop being dusted with a fine layer of rainwater and the cup being plastic, Patrick glared at Charlie. “You know why I can’t do this. My family – ”

“Knows,” Charlie inserted pointedly. “Most of your family knows.”

“Not the family that matters,” Patrick insisted with rising frustration. “I can’t lose my mother, Chaz. I can’t, please.”

“I’m not asking you to come out. I’m not giving you an ultimatum. I’m just letting you know that everything _you_ want affects _me_. That’s what happens in an actual relationship, and right now, with me still locked into a contract, there’s not much we can do anyway, but _this_ isn’t going to last. You’re building our future on a house of cards, but you’re not Hannah Montana. You can’t live as two different people to make your family happy, and I can’t sacrifice a part of who I am to be your dirty little secret. Even if I _could_ , we wouldn’t survive that.”

Patrick jerked back slightly as if he’d been slapped and stared down at Charlie with a torn, stricken expression that Charlie both regretted having put there but also couldn’t take back. They needed to have a serious talk about this, not a whispered back-and-forth about their acceptance in the middle of a Christmas festival. Charlie regretted hurting Patrick, but he didn’t regret his words.

He loved Patrick, but Charlie had fought too long, too hard, and sacrificed too much to ever be willingly caged again. He knew himself well enough to know no matter how much he loved Patty, no matter how much he wanted to grow old with him and have a future with him, he’d resent him if he made Charlie remain closeted for the sake of his family’s old school homophobia.

“You boys done being all lovey-dovey in front of the whole wide world?” Poppy asked, starting both of them out of their grim conversation as they turned to him.

“Lovey-dovey?” Patrick inquired in confusion for a moment. Poppy looked at him strangely before paling and shooting an appalled glance between them. “Oh, whoops,” Patrick expressed, turning to Charlie with a ‘whoops’ look on his face.

Charlie giggled while Poppy held up a hand and feigned throwing up. “Oh my God, what is _wrong_ with the two of you? Your cast mates are heading to the tent for dinner and that band playing.” Charlie gently shoved Patrick back and hopped off his stool excitedly, making a face and stilling for a moment at the shift of the plug that sent a shock of arousal through him for a minute. Patrick smirked. Poppy sighed and pointed a finger at Charlie. “I’m telling Salem.”

“Go ahead,” Charlie challenged. “Salem once sucked off Bailey while he was driving home on New Year’s Eve.”

Poppy’s hands swiftly went to her ears as she whirled around shaking her head. “Stop! Oh my fucking Christ, he’s like my _brother_. Jesus.”

Charlie laughed and shifted his eyes to Patrick, eyeing him timidly. Patrick smiled at him softly and caught his hand, tugging him along after Poppy.

The tension lingered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter when I was doing my report on fanfiction in popular culture for my publishing class and got very upset about some of Benedict Cumberbatch's thoughts on JohnLock fanfiction...and I'm not even a part of that fandom. So, here's essentially my rant. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Also, Winter Wonderland is a Christmas event in Hyde Park through December and early January that includes rides that gave me a headache, an amazing atmosphere, and authentic German food. Absolutely fantastic.
> 
> I feel like I'm neglecting this story. I'm so sorry, but I honestly forget about updating it so thank you all for writing me reviews because half the time it's not until I read them that I go 'oh shit yeah I should update!' You're all awesome.


	27. "Stay" by Kygo ft. Maty Noyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holiday season from hell.

**Vanessa Parrish and Charlie Beck getting cozy in Wonderland!**

Heartthrob _Ethereal_ actor, Charlie Beck, was spotted with castmate and fellow actress, Vanessa Parrish, at Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park. The pair were photographed ice skating together and sharing a churro before later meeting up with the rest of _Ethereal_ ’s season 4 cast in Bavarian Village to mulled wine and authentic German hotdogs. Sources say that the two were “really sweet and all over each other like a new young couple.” Parrish, who’s set to play Belle in the upcoming live-action Disney production of _Beauty and the Beast_ and currently plays Morgan le Fay and Cadeyrn’s (Beck) former lover on _Ethereal_ , was also pictured having a tête-à-tête with Beck’s older sister and supermodel, Daphne Beck. Speculation has even suggested the cute Winter Wonderland outing as a double date as Daphne posted a photo of herself kissing her younger brother’s best friend, Patrick Gallagher, and captioned it ‘The bae’ amidst rumors of a breakup with long-time boyfriend and singer/songwriter, Soren Reid.

 

**Text message to Mam**

**Patrick:** If she’s coming home for Christmas I’m not.

**Mam:** Can you two please try to get along?

**Mam:** For your grandparents.

**Patrick:** (read above)

 

**Text message to Shannon**

**Patrick:** Mam’s lying to me isn’t she?

**Shannon:** Youre asking the wrong person luv

**Shannon:** I havent heard anything abt Mags tho

 

**Text message to Tasha**

**Charlie:** I expect to see you and Damien over Christmas

**Charlie:** So does mum.

**Tasha:** Course Chaz. Let’s make it a surprise?

**Charlie:** …this is in case you get wrapped in something you can’t get out of isn’t it?

**Tasha:** Would I do something like that?

**Charlie:** Don’t make me set Poppy on you, Natasha.

**Tasha:** ;)

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“I feel like you’re sending me off to war.” I will await your return on the widows walk

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

@CharlieBeck that’s very Gatsby of you babes

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Mc_QueenHolly only if I stand there in a suit and bowtie with champagne cocktail and a dramatic look #pictureit

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Back on the Emerald Isle and it’s snowing !!!!

 

**Margaret Gallagher (@MaggieLGallagher)**

Home for the holidays…

* * *

Patrick poured himself another glass of whiskey without the slightest care for how many of his family members were silently judging him for it. Ra-Ra perched on the counter beside with her nails tapping against the marble countertop anxiously and her purple lips pressed together in a tight line. Shannon had wandered in with a harassed expression that had everything to do with her stepmother that quickly melted into shock, horror, and then guilt when she shot Patrick an apologetic look.

He waved her off. It wasn’t _Shannon’s_ job to tell him these things. It was his mother’s, but she’d known that admitting to Maggie and Simon’s attendance would be tantamount to being the catalyst for Patrick not showing up at all.

It had been hard enough to send Charlie off to his mother’s Surrey estate for the holidays on their first Christmas as an official couple when he had seen with crystal clarity how much Charlie had _wanted_ to plead for Patrick to come with him. Knowing he’d forgone a holiday with his boyfriend, his dog, and within a moderate distance of his friends to deal with his entire extended family _and_ his psychotic sister especially on the heels of discovering his mother had used her emergency access to his bank account to help his sister with her legal dilemmas in America pissed him off.

Patrick wanted to go home. To his own bed. To his own house. To the love of his life that’d been sweet enough to not ask for something he’d desperately wanted because he hadn’t wanted to put Patrick into such a position.

“And who are _you_?” Their grandmother demanded as she shuffled into the kitchen, crossing her arms to glare balefully at Maggie.

Maggie crooked an eyebrow at their grandmother while their grandfather came up behind his wife to squeeze her shoulders, “Now Norah…”

“Don’t ya ‘now Norah’ me, Murphy! Girl’s been gone _years_ without a word to anyone, and I’m expected to play nice with her like it ain’t been nothing at all?!”

“Mam!” Kennedy snapped from Maggie’s other side, her eyes anxiously darting to Patrick with a nervously smile he didn’t bother to return, keeping his stormy glare in place.

“That’s enough out of you, Kennedy,” their grandmother ordered stiffly. “Lax, indulgent parenting’s what got her into trouble to begin with.”

Kennedy flushed, and Rory shook his head, slipping a comforting around Kennedy’s shoulders. “Play nicely, Norah,” he warned softly.

Murphy nodded and walked to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup, watching the drama unfolding from where most of the grandkids had congregated in a large group with anxious but inquisitive looks.

“I was focusing on my career, gran,” Maggie replied succinctly, unapologetic. “News waits for no woman.”

Their aunt’s fifteen-year-old, Bridget, snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, “What you do isn’t _news_.”

Maggie whirled around to glare at Bridget while her younger sister, Anna, continued before Maggie could formulate a cutting reply to Bridget’s words. “Next you’ll be saying what Simon does is proper television.”

Simon Anderson, Maggie’s husband of five years, was a moderately handsome man who consistently wore black Diesel jeans and button-ups of various colors. His hair was a shade lighter than Maggie’s, and he had a neatly trimmed beard and moustache that made him look like a knock-off lumberjack. In actuality, Simon worked in reality television. He’d started his life working as producer for the X-Factor before moving into _UnREAL_ territory of manipulation and scheming that had gotten him in as an executive producer in more than a few of the entertainment industry’s most successful reality shows.

Taylor had looked into it when Patrick had asked and found Simon had gotten a job producing Davina Allard’s reality show, _Primrose Patricians_. Patrick was not impressed.

Aunt Irene whacked her daughters while Cody shook his head and shuffled out of the room with Uncle Brian. The only reason Uncle Rowan didn’t flee seemed to be out of some misguided belief that sharing blood with both Kennedy and Maggie required his presence. His wife, Kelly, on the other hand, wisely prodded their six-year-old daughter, Moira, and four year old son, Murphy, out of the room and away from the drama.

“I suppose they don’t have phones in Los Angeles?” Their grandmother spat.

“I had a job to do!” Maggie hissed, “I didn’t have time to cater to this family’s obsessive need to gather every living generation since its inception or the cash to make annual pilgrimages to Ireland, gran.”

“I don’t suppose your husband could have forgone a pair of designer jeans to pair for a ticket once in the last _decade_?” She hissed.

Simon held up his hands. “I said she should have come.”

Maggie shot him a betrayed laugh, and Simon pressed a kiss to her forehead with a genial smile. Huffing, Maggie turned back to their grandmother, dismissing her husband entirely. He seemed more amused than upset by it. For all her faults – and for all _Simon’s_ – they loved each other from what Patrick had heard.

Israel had met them once at a press junket and described them as ‘monsters in matrimony.’ The pair of them were each as bad as the other and together they could probably end the world. Jazz found their dynamic endlessly fascinating; Israel and Patrick had told her to stay the fuck away from them.

“I was _busy_ ,” Maggie insisted.

“So was I!” Ra-Ra finally snapped, “So was Patty. So was Shannon. You’re not the only one who has a life!”

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest and glared malevolently at Ra-Ra, “No, but I am the only one who’s had to build their career without nepotism and favours from famous…friends.” The last word was accompanied by her slanting a knowing look towards Patrick who didn’t even bother with maturity, skipping straight to flicking his sister off.

“Okay,” Rory interrupted, “let’s all just tone it down. I know everyone’s a little bit upset, each for their own reason.” He gave Kennedy and Patrick pointed looks in turn before walking to Norah and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But we’re family. It’s Christmas. Can we not declare a temporary ceasefire? At least for now?”

A moment of silence descended as everyone thought the words over.

Patrick couldn’t help but blurt, “Maybe. If mam and Mags can explain who Mags fucked over so badly that they sued _her_ not her publication. And why mam used _my_ money to pay for the woman who exploited her own brother for her career? And why no one told me about it? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Don’t be so selfish, Patrick,” his mother snapped impatiently while Rory sighed and leaned against Norah with defeat. “Your sister needed that money, and you didn’t even notice.”

“It was _my_ money. I gave you that banking information in confidence _for emergencies_. Not for when you need to bail my deadbeat sister’s arse out of trouble for her own mistakes. You should have let her drown, then maybe she’d have learned something!”

“Patrick!” His mother exclaimed.

His grandfather shook his head, “Not the time, Patty.”

“You’re still sore over _nothing_. Just as much the petty little bitch you were in LA, completely oblivious to the way the real world works. The golden rule in this industry is if you have connections, use them.”

“There’s a difference between you calling me and asking for an introduction so you can write a feature or a profile. I would have made those introductions. You lied, schemed, and manipulated. You lied. You stole. You used underhanded, morally repugnant, non-existent ethics to gain trust until you found a scandal you could sell. You sold out your own brother to get ahead in an industry whose only job is either to kiss arse for access or be disgusting for views.”

“You’re so naïve,” Maggie hissed, pointing at him threateningly. “You think I took advantage of you?”

“I _know_ you did,” Patrick returned. Ra-Ra and Shannon nodded in agreement.

“Maybe it’s time we dropped this conversation,” Uncle Rowan started uncertainly.

But now that they’d begun, Patrick knew they wouldn’t be stopping until someone walked or until they’d completely hashed out their differences. Kennedy’s home had been a warzone between them growing up.

“You don’t know _anything_ ,” Maggie replied viciously. “Do you know the shit TMZ has on you? The _Inquisitr_? _People_? _Us Weekly_? _OK!_? _Gossip Cop_? Me? I reported stories before they did, more interesting ones than they had. I protected you when we both know with the amount of shit I had on your LA party days could have made me millions. Never mind what I have on you now!”

The whole family stilled, eyes shifting between Patrick and Maggie with shock and alarm. Their cousins who had a vague idea of what Maggie was referring to traded looks of ‘we’re staying out of this’ while the adults didn’t seem to know what to make of it. His grandfather narrowed his eyes on Patrick thoughtfully as he blew on his coffee, eyes darting to his wife as he gave a one-shouldered shrug. Norah sighed. Aunt Irene and Uncle Rowan seemed uncomfortable but curious. Rory’s gaze stayed focused on Kennedy who seemed particularly troubled.

Decisively, Kennedy turned to Maggie. “What kind of _things_?”

“Bullshit!” Patrick interrupted. “If you’d come to me, I would have called up Pete. They would have been slapped with an injunction, but you _didn’t_. You schemed and manipulated and used me to get ahead. Your _brother_.”

“Maggie,” Kennedy said softly, “what do you have about your brother?”

“Kennedy,” Rory started.

“No!” Kennedy shouted anxiously, angrily. “We’re a family. I need to know what secrets are so bad that calling you a drug addict was a better alternative.”

Maggie slanted Patrick a pointed, questioning look that ordered him to explain. Shannon snorted and flipped Maggie. Kennedy turned red. “For fuck’s sake, Patty, start – ”

A shrill scream echoed through the house, and everyone froze before moving as one out the back door towards the sound. They darted out of the house as a group and huddled together on the back porch to watch as their red-faced eldest aunt, Kathleen, tugged her youngest son, Brian, behind her to point a finger in Adam’s face. Adam who had a dark lovebite on his neck and the look of someone who’d been hastily put together.

“You don’t think they…” Shannon trailed off, looking at Ra-Ra and Patrick.

“No!” Ra-Ra hissed. “This isn’t _August: Osage County._ ”

“Let’s hope not, because Ivy and Charles were actually half-siblings. That’d be awkward,” Patrick said.

They both shot him disbelieving looks before shouting drew their attention back to the scene in front of them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Aunt Kathleen hissed at Adam who seemed unsure.

“Stop, mam,” Brian pleaded. “Leave it alone.”

Aunt Kathleen whirled on her son. “You _knew_? You knew about this…this…aberration! How _dare_ you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Brian snapped. “ _You’re_ just a bigot, which is why you’re making it one.”

The crack of the slap across Brian’s face shattered the evening. “Kath!” Uncle Brian exclaimed in disbelief, shoving through the gathered family to pull Aunt Kathleen back from their son as Adam stepped between them, tiling up his cousin’s head to frown at the red mark across his face.

“It’s fine, idiot,” Brian said brusquely, brushing away his cousin’s hand as tears filled his eyes. Adam wrapped his arms around Brian.

“Don’t you _touch_ him, you little fairy freak!” Aunt Kathleen hissed. Patrick’s eyebrows rose despite knowing before now what this _had_ to have been about. “You stay the hell away from my son. First you’ve got him lying to me about what you’re up to when you go down to the barn. Have him lie to cover up your dirty little escapades to suck that fucking poof’s cock. What next? He’ll be just like you!”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Brian snapped at his mother, furiously.

“Don’t speak to your mother like that, Brian,” his father ordered, and Brian drew back in shock. “Get away from that boy.”

Uncle Cody, Adam’s father, having waded into the conversation interjected. “‘That boy’ is my son. And I won’t hear another word about him,” he said coldly, turning to Adam and Brian. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Adam said through eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, da.”

Uncle Cody sighed and wrapped his arms around Adam. “Why? There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Cody!” Aunt Irene hissed, “There surely _is_. It’s one thing to have those _thoughts_. It’s another thing for him to be running around acting on them.”

“I agree, safe sex is important,” Uncle Cody answered with deliberate obliviousness.

“He can’t be like _that_ ,” Aunt Irene said, grasping onto Uncle Rowan with dawning horror and disgust.

Adam curled into Brian like his mother had struck him. Brian patted his cousin’s back while Uncle Cody stepped between them and his wife’s look. Anna shared a look with Bridget, peering between their mother and father’s standoff with understanding and a dawning fear. Anna chose a side first, stepping towards Adam while her mother reached out and grasped her sleeve, holding her still.

“You stay right here, Anna.”

“No, mam,” Anna whispered, glancing at Bridget who nodded uneasily at her sister. Anna shook of her mother’s hold. “You’re wrong. And you’re hurting Adam.”

“This is unnatural. I refuse for my son to be some kind of…” her lip curled up, and Anna took a step away from her as Kennedy reached out for her sister with sympathy.

Patrick watched Adam shrink into himself before he took a breath, looking at Ra-Ra and Shannon before saying, “Queer?” All eyes turned towards him. He ignored them all, meeting Adam’s reddened, humiliated gaze before turning to meet his mother’s. “I’m dating Charlie Beck.”

His grandfather nodded and looked to his grandmother who huffed and pulled out a fiver from her pocket, handing it over with an irritated scowl. Ra-Ra and Shannon grabbed his hands to steady him while Maggie watched him from Simon’s side with a calculating look in her eye that he’d deal with later. On problem at a time, starting with Kennedy’s stricken expression and the way she fell into Irene’s arms like she physically couldn’t hold herself up anymore.

Rory gave him a watery smile and nodded once in encouragement.

“You…you can’t be a…you dated…”

“A lot of people,” Patrick admitted. “Torin Cadogan was my first serious boyfriend. I’m bisexual, mam. I’ve _always_ been bisexual.”

Kennedy shook her head, shell-shocked. “You can’t…I just…that _boy_ …” she breathed with a mounting anger that had no place being directed towards Charlie.

“How could you do this to your mother?” Uncle Rowan demanded. “What is _wrong_ with you all?

“Oh so you and Aunt Kennedy over here get to knock up and get knocked up as teenagers and have kids out of wedlock but fuck being something other than straight, Lord have mercy!” Shannon declared sarcastically.

“Shannon!” Aunt Kelly hissed, coming out of the back door and peering inside for any sign of her children listening. “That’s enough.”

“Why would I listen to _you_? You who hates me for _literally_ being born.” Shannon challenged.

“This isn’t the time for family counselling,” Uncle Rowan snapped. “Our problems are still less than your cousins’…sickness.”

“When did we regress to the middle ages?” Ra-Ra muttered. Aunt Kathleen shot her daughter a furious look, and Ra-Ra rolled her eyes.

Their grandmother huffed, “How did you all get so disgusting? I’m sure I didn’t raise you like this.”

“I think you might have, Norah,” their grandfather interjected jovially. “Is someone going to get Brian some ice for his damned cheek?” No one moved, and no one answered. He sighed again, “Since it’s _your_ doing, go get your son some ice, Kathleen. Now!” Unwillingly, she went to do her father’s bidding, shuffling passed Kelly. With a long-suffering sigh, he turned to the rest of the family, his gaze sweeping over them all and landing on Adam’s for a long while before finally meeting Patrick’s with a soft smile. “Here’s what’s going to happen. We’re all going to go inside, and everyone’s going to go calm down for a minute, yeah? You all can have your family discussions tomorrow _after_ Christmas. And if I hear one slur in this house, I’ll take a belt to ya, I don’t care how old ya are. Norah and I won’t tolerate it. Maybe it’s just that we’re old, and we’ve seen enough to know not everything needs to be a goddamned fight. Maybe it’s because I know my own da got up to some…interesting things during the war and that’s why he never was allowed to come home. Maybe ya all need to learn some goddamned kindness for your fellow man – your _family_ – I don’t know and I don’t care, but I won’t tolerate ignorance in my house. Go.”

The dividing lines had been drawn. Maggie and Simon slipped in first, above and uninvolved with the drama. Aunt Irene gripped Uncle Rowan and Uncle Brian’s hands as they guided her inside after Kelly. Shannon, Ra-Ra, Anna, Bridget, and Uncle David grouped around Brian and Adam with their grandparents bringing up the rear. Patrick and his mother looked at each other from across the porch, Rory hesitating in the doorway until Patrick waved him away.

“Mam,” Patrick started.

“No,” Kennedy shook her head. “No, Pat. How could you do this to me?”

“I’m in love with him.”

“No,” she said, tears welling in her eyes as she began hyperventilating.

“Yes, mam. Why does it matter? Why does it change anything?”

“It’s wrong. It’s unnatural.” Kennedy insisted, “Don’t ask me to be okay with this, Patrick.”

“Then don’t ask me to change who I am to make you happy,” Patrick pleaded, angrily wiping tears from his eyes. “This is who I am. This is who I’ve always been, mam. I haven’t changed.”

Kennedy nodded, pressing one hand to her abdomen and the other to her mouth. “You’re not my son. I didn’t raise you to be this way. This isn’t right. I can’t…look at you.”

“Kennedy!” Patrick heard Rory hiss as he fell back against the railing, gripping it tightly with one hand as his world seemed to collapse in on itself.

His vision went blurry. The sound seemed to fade and distort. He felt too hot, too cold, too confined. He needed…he needed…

_I can’t believe she said that._

“I have to…” Patrick started, stumbling down the stairs in only socks, jeans, and a thin cotton shirt.

“Patty, just give her time, let me talk to her,” Rory said, gripping his hand. “She’s just shocked. Give her a minute to cool off. Don’t act brash.”

Patrick laughed humourlessly, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around his middle. He felt hollow, wounded, breathless and pained. He felt like she’d slipped a knife between his ribs while pressing a Judas kiss to his lips the way she used to every night when she’d tucked him in as a child, her voice whispering, “I love you, my little boy. Always.” The words choked him, strangled him, held him hostage and confined and imprisoned. A lie of the worst kind, and a betrayal he wished he could forget.

He shook his head with a weak smile. “I can’t look at her right now. I can’t look at _any_ of them right now.” Rory paled but nodded in understanding, hugging Patrick tightly before releasing him and allowing him to flee with the tattered remains of his dignity and his sense of self-worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The August: Osage County reference was them questioning whether they thought Brian and Adam had been making out with each other, just in case it slipped by anyone's notice. They weren't. Brian just knew what Adam was doing and was trying to keep their family from noticing.
> 
> How's that for Patrick's dramatic coming out. I honestly hadn't had any intention of writing this scene this way at all, but it happened and I rolled with it.  
> The Gallagher family's a little intense. They're definitely homophobic as well as old school by-the-book Catholic. Disclaimer: I know not every old school Catholic family is homophobic. I'm from an old school Catholic family who's life motto seemed to boil down to "who gives a fuck." Patrick's grandparents, Murphy and Norah, are loosely based on my Polish grandparents who adored my mother's gay best friends. Norah and Murphy are a tad bit more accepting towards their grandkids, though, my great-grandma tended to ask 'when are you two planning on getting married' because she half wanted to know and half wanted to pretend like they weren't going to some day be getting married to each other. I digress. Some people just seem to mellow out when they get older, my grandfather, though, is one of those elderly people that gets worse with age not better.
> 
> Also, my long-winded spiel is proof of my dedication to procrastination. I don't want to work on my artisan book project. :'(


	28. "All My Friends" by Snakehips ft. Tinashe and Chance the Rapper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running home

**Shannon Gallagher (@shanabanana98)**

Jesus fucking Christ next time I’ll work for Christmas

 

**Ra-Ra Ahearne (@949701ra_ra)**

Missing my big brother rn. But he’d be so proud of the man you’ve become @brianahearne2.0 just like I am

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Happy Christmas everyone :D have a safe and lovely holiday season

 

**Text message from Lord Vader**

**Lord Vader:** Happy Christmas, Charlie

**Charlie:** Happy Christmas dad.

**Lord Vader:** Have you seen your sister?

**Charlie:** …has she not been answering? She’s here.

**Lord Vader:** Tell her I love her and to have a happy Christmas.

**Lord Vader:** The kids say they love you, miss you, and they hope you have a good Christmas

**Charlie:** Ha. Yeah. Dante sent me some pics of him, Rocco, Allegra. They look good.

**Charlie:** Have you heard from Jarek?

**Lord Vader:** No. You siblings would like to know if you’re coming down this summer?

**Charlie:** Yes. I have shooting down there for about six weeks this summer so definitely

**Lord Vader:** Good. They’ll be glad to see you. I love you Charlie.

**Charlie:** Yeah I know.

 

**Jarek Brzezicki (@j_brzezicki)**

Happy Christmas from Madagascar @CharlieBeck @13poppies

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@j_brzezicki @CharlieBeck :D <3

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Mama_Petrovna clearly loves me more than @Salem_Daiki AND @LadyLibby

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck stop stealing my mother!!!!!! It’s Christmas!!!!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Salem_Daiki for like another two hours :P

 

**Text message from Ra-Ra**

**Ra-Ra:** Where are you?

**Ra-Ra:** Everyone’s really worried

**Ra-Ra:** Patrick please

**Patrick:** I’m in London

**Ra-Ra:** Wtf? What do you mean youre in London?! All your shit is still here?

**Ra-Ra:** Aunt Kennedy’s beside herself.

**Patrick:** Im not gonna talk about my mother. I don’t need anything from the house. It’s fine

**Ra-Ra:** R u going to see Charlie? Please tell me yes.

**Patrick:** Yes. Im fine

* * *

“You’re such a fucking cheater, Bailey!” Poppy exclaimed furiously, lobbing a decorative throw pillow at the footballer’s head.

Bailey ducked, smirked, and flicked the property card with his index finger while Salem watched him with narrowed eyes. “The rules don’t say you can’t.”

“They just never took people like _you_ into account,” Salem hissed furiously. “Dirty rotten cheat.”

“Isn’t.” Bailey beamed.

“Is.” Poppy and Salem said in tandem.

Bailey glanced over at Charlie, “You be the tie-breaker, Charlie. Cheating or not?”

Charlie scoffed, “Does the EPL know you’re so bad at maths? Two against one isn’t _tied_.” Bailey glowered, and Charlie smiled slightly and shrugged as he looked at Poppy and Salem. “Sorry, bitches, remember last year when you populated your properties in hotels and bankrupted me in one go? Yeah, I’m siding with the man who makes that impossible. Sorry motherfuckers.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Charlie, language,” his mother rebuked as she swept into the room, devoid of any frills. Libby had shed her usual brand of upmarket Christmas finery when Tasha and Damien had arrived with Bailey and Salem in tow after their own drama filled Christmas holiday featuring the entirety of the Bailey clan popping by uninvited until they’d been hustled out at the stroke of eight. For once, Charlotte Harbourne looked like a frantic mother of two on Christmas with family instead of a haute couture fashion designer who lived in a bona fide castle.

His mother’s chestnut hair had been twisted up in a loose, hastily made bun and her cornflower blue eyes sparkled unassisted by her usual fare of kohl or mascara. She’d stripped of her festive red and gold holiday gown into a pair of yoga pants and a hideous oversized Christmas jumper that was unmistakably Fitz’s. She even had a dusting of flour on her cheek that no one would point out simply from the sheer surrealism of the entire sight.

“Are those cookies?” Bailey perked up in interest, eyeing the plate Libby set on the table.

Salem peered over as well and beamed, “They’re peanut butter cookies! With Hershey’s kisses. My mama’s so good to me.”

“Yes, I am. Never forget that,” Tasha ordered as she came into the room with a tray of hot cocoas, slapping Poppy’s hand away when she reached for one. “Wait until we start the movie.”

“Poo,” Poppy huffed, collapsing back against the Persian rug.

“Libs, Fitz told me to tell you the dog’s eating a magpie.” Tasha frowned skeptically.

Charlie’s head whipped around, “Not _my_ dog, right?”

Tasha frowned at him, “Your dog isn’t a border collie.”

“Shit!” Libby exclaimed, racing towards the backdoor. The doorbell rang, and Libby yelled out, “Someone get that for heaven’s sake! Fitz! What’s _wrong_ with this satanic canine?!”

“I told you he was a loose cannon, Libby! I _did_!” Fitz called back from the kitchen, insisted. “I’m coming! I’m coming!” Fitz called as he sprinted down the hallway in tube socks and _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ pajamas.

“That’s what she said!” Salem called out.

Damien poked his head in the room and pointed at Salem with pride, and he beamed while Tasha rolled her eyes and made her way to Damien, shoving him into the kitchen gently. Charlie laughed and peered down at the monopoly board quizzically. “Who’s go was it, again?”

Everyone groaned, and Charlie glowered at them.

“It’s not like _you_ remember,” he retorted coldly.

Poppy rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree while Salem decided to rapidly descend into adolescence and stick his tongue out at Charlie who flipped him off with a bemused smirk. Bailey glanced between them with a growing smile and a shake of his head that caught Salem’s attention enough to prompt a light shove.

Fitz cleared his throat in the doorway, and Charlie looked up at his stepfather with a frown of confusion as he hesitated with enough awkward uncertainty to shift the mood of the entire room. Running a hand nervously through his graying blond hair, he forced a smile. Poppy and Charlie exchanged twin glances of confusion.

“Charlie,” he started, “there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who…” he started. Fitz raised his eyebrow with a pleading look in his eye, and Charlie nodded slowly, acquiescing. He got to his feet, brushing passed Salem to cuff him lightly on the side of the head, smirking slightly when he heard his best friend huff and grumble from behind. Pausing beside Fitz, Charlie crooked an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“With _me_?” Fitz inquired archly, “Yes. With _him_? Definitely not.”

Creepy vague. Lovely.

Of all Charlie’s stepfathers, Fitz was his unchallenged favorite.

His mother had had an almost excessive amount of lovers and husbands, though not as many as she _could_ have, Poppy often liked to point out. Cooper Lachlan, a film producer from LA, had been her rebound when Samuel had left her to marry their nanny; he’d been her only other _husband_ , and Charlie only remembered throwing LEGOs at the man despite being old enough to know better.

Cooper hadn’t lasted more than two years.

Amos Teagan had been next, a model ten years his mother’s junior. He still worked for Calvin Klein if Poppy was to be believed. She’d liked him enough that they still talked on occasion, but the only thing Charlie could remember about the half-Italian fashion model was that he hadn’t hated the man. Amos and Libby’s relationship had dissolved amicably and without incident when the attraction had fizzled out between them.

The next serious boyfriend had been Derrick Michaels who’d preceded Derek Havershim as the country’s favorite television show host. He and Libby had had a tumultuous affair that had lasted three years and ruined Derrick’s career in a fiery inferno of jumbled feelings. It had been on-again, off-again, and Charlie had spent most of those years working overmuch to avoid the household warfare that played out across the covers of countless tabloids in the UK. Their relationship had ended when Derrick had found Libby in bed with a French fashion photographer and said goodbye by setting _Charlie’s_ antique Aston Martin DB5. No one had been impressed.

Dion Sharpe, the last before Fitz, had been tolerable enough that Charlie worked with him on occasion if the script was good enough. He was an award winning French director who’d won an absurd amount of prizes at the Cannes Film Festival. He’d also met Libby when Charlie had been shooting a short film for the Tribeca Film Festival with him, which hadn’t endeared him to the man _at all_. He hadn’t been all bad, though, just self-centered and irritable. They’d terminated their two-year engagement when Libby had fallen (into bed) for Fitz who’d been the technical director for one of Dion’s films.

No one had mourned the end of that relationship, and Charlie much preferred Fitz to everyone other man who’d filtered in and out of his mother’s life, his father included.

“Take care of your boy, Charlie,” Fitz murmured lowly, tapping his forearm before dashing down the hall where his mother’s cursing had become loud and unmistakably frustrated.

Charlie’s confusion bled away as his eyes land on Patrick, standing in the doorway with red-rimmed eyes and a generally ruffled appearance that included a kitschy souvenir London hoodie and a pair of flip-flops that the weather certainly did not permit in the slightest.

“Hey,” Charlie greeted softly, uneasy about the naked vulnerability on Patrick’s face.

Patrick’s gaze jerked to Charlie, focusing and welling with tears only a moment before he’d thrown himself into Charlie’s arms.

He startled for a moment before realizing his boyfriend had shown up at his house on Christmas when he was supposed to be in Ireland. Sobbing. Charlie wrapped his arms around Patrick, carding his fingers through his hair and rubbing his back, letting Patrick hold onto him tightly and cry himself out on Charlie’s shoulder.

When the sobbing tapered off and grew quieter, Charlie pulled back, wiping the tears staining Patrick’s cheeks with the sleeve of his jumper. He took his boyfriend’s hand and tugged him up the stairs and away from the sounds of his family, leading him through the twisting corridors until he reached the door to his bedroom.

Charlie tugged Patrick inside and pressed a tender kiss to his lips, closing the door quietly and dropping onto his sofa. He watched Patrick take in the room with interest, biting his lip anxiously as Patrick went to the fireplace and examined the pictures on the mantle.

He hesitated on the one of Charlie and Salem in matching MIT sweatshirts, smiling widely at the camera with their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders. Swallowing nervously, Patrick turned away sharply to stare at the one of him and Poppy as children, riding bareback on the back of their mother’s now-deceased Gypsy Vanner mare with bright smiles and their arms thrown around each other.

Patrick’s lips curved up into a slight smile that faded when he picked up the framed photograph of Charlie and Libby when he’d walked in one of her menswear fashion shows on the heels of his break with Disney. Charlie’s eyebrows drew together in confusion at the stricken look that flitted over Patrick’s face as he placed it down like it had burned him, turning to Charlie and anxiously squeezing his neck.

“My cousin, Adam, is gay,” Patrick confessed.

Charlie’s eyebrows rose, and he kept his face carefully blank. _That_ wasn’t news. Patrick had told Charlie his suspicions about his cousin last Christmas when he’d given the family an impromptu lecture on the various facets of the LGBT community. He wanted to know why that information had preceded Patrick’s surprise visit to Surrey when they’d both agreed to swallow their sappy desire to spend their first Christmas as an official couple together so Patrick could go see his family in Ireland while Charlie upheld family traditions in Surrey.

“My Aunt Irene found out when she went looking for her son, Brian. He was covering for Adam while he hooked up with some boy. She lost it, ripped into him in front of the entire family and…” Patrick let out a frustrated sound, turning to Charlie. “He’s _seventeen_ , you know? He doesn’t deserve the shit my aunts and uncles were putting him through. So I…came out, I guess…to my family.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well…” Charlie said carefully, unsure of what to say.

His family had been fairly accepting of his homosexuality. His mother had shrugged and told him as long as he didn’t start wearing trackies and trainers he could do whatever – and _whoever_ – he wanted. Patricia had taken it the hardest, but she’d kept her mouth shut when Samuel’s only protestation had been ‘you’re not going to _come out_ , are you?’

Patrick let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You don’t have any bags.”

“They’re in Ireland.”

“You’re in flip-flops.”

“Security wouldn’t let me through without shoes.”

That hadn’t exactly been the intended question, but Charlie supposed it answered that well enough.

“You don’t have a jacket,” he felt compelled to point out.

Patrick laughed wetly, tears welling, “I _ran away_ Chaz.”

“Oh,” he breathed, sighing as he studied his boyfriend’s heartbroken face. “Come here, Patty,” he said softly.

With a choked sob, Patrick collapsed onto the sofa, toeing off his flip-flops and laying his head in Charlie’s lap to let him card his fingers through his hair.

“She looked right at me and said ‘you’re not my son’ like that one thing changed everything I’ve ever done for her…for my family. She looked at me like she didn’t know me. How could she do that to me? What’s wrong with me?” Patrick whispered.

“Nothing!” Charlie hissed furiously, and Patrick’s gaze flickered up to meet Charlie’s. “You did nothing wrong! She’s being ridiculous. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“But there is, isn’t there?” Patrick insisted. “There has to be, right? I mean I knew she’d be upset, but…” he went quiet and Charlie watched his face as he sorted through his emotions. “But I’m her _son_. How could she…abandon me too? Why does everyone leave me, Chazza?”

Charlie fought back his own tears, shaking his head and pasting on a smile Patrick looked up at him. He stroked Patrick’s cheek and tried to keep his own anger in check. It wouldn’t do anyone any good for him to get upset over this right now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to fly his ass down to Cork immediately to scream at Kennedy Doherty about putting her son through this shit again.

Patrick who’d been abandoned by his father when he’d still been in nappies.

They’d met, Patrick and his father.

Quinn Delaney, Patrick had told him, still lived in Cork and worked at one of the city’s favorite pubs. Women still loved him. The patrons raved about their favorite bartender. And he’d engaged Patrick’s curiosity a time or two by letting him sit at the bar, when he’d been younger and underage, and allowed his son to pepper him with question about his life. They were, in the loosest sense, friends, but Patrick had never quite been able to get over the way Quinn had thrown in the towel and walked out on _him_ when he’d been a toddler.

Fair enough, Charlie thought. He’d never been able to forgive his own father for screwing their nanny, breaking up their family to marry her, and starting a new one with her in _Australia_. He could only imagine what it was like to grow up without any impression of the man from whom he’d inherited half his DNA aside from a name and bad taste in his mouth.

Kennedy, no matter her upbringing, no matter her prejudices, no matter her religious beliefs, should have taken a moment to not reinforce every insecurity Patrick had been instilled with in childhood before she disowned him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Patty,” Charlie replied with a forced lightness to his words that he certainly didn’t _feel_. “Just because your father tapped out before he’d even really started, and your mother and her siblings lost their heads between the pages of Bible verses taken wildly out of context does not mean everyone leaves you.”

“My sister?”

“Is psychotic,” he insisted shortly. “She doesn’t count. What did you grandparents say?”

“That homophobic language wouldn’t be tolerated in their house and everyone needed to chill the fuck out.” Patrick sniffled, pouting.

Charlie tapped his thumb on Patrick’s bottom lip and smiled, “See you still have you grandparents, your cousins – ”

“Uncle Cody,” he sighed.

“Israel, Sinclair, Kimberly, Salem, Poppy, maybe Soren, but I haven’t figured out whether we like him or hate him again.”

“You.”

“Me,” Charlie nodded, carding his fingers through Patrick’s hair, holding his gaze firmly. “You _always_ have me. Even when I try to run to the other side of the world.”

“LA isn’t far enough,” Patrick stated smugly. “Next time at least shoot for Japan.”

“I was _working_.”

“Always an excuse.” He huffed, his lips curving up slightly as he reached up to cup Charlie’s cheek, the tears welling again as he smiled softly, fondly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, sunshine. You know that?” Charlie bit the inside of his cheek and leaned into Patrick’s hand. “I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ashamed of you.” Charlie started to argue, but Patrick’s fingers pressed against Charlie’s lips to keep him quiet as he shook his head. “No, Chazza. I heard you, okay? I _did_. Even what you _weren’t_ saying, but I love you. I want to kiss you in public and hold your hand during interviews and being disgustingly sappy at award shows and fly cross-country for one night together while we’re both filming in two different places. I want to marry you, and Neil Patrick Harris and David Burka the shit out of the world. I do. I’m sorry it took me so long to get with the program, sunshine, but I’m here now.”

Charlie didn’t realize he’d started crying until Patrick brushed away the silent tears falling from his eyes with a tender smile. Taking a breath and feigning a blasé attitude, Charlie said, “If that was a proposal, it was a shit one.”

Laughing, Patrick sat up and pressed a lingering, heated kiss to Charlie’s lips, whispering, “Don’t worry. There’ll be a better one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happens after Bailey and Salem spend Christmas with Bailey's whole family in the last book, in case I didn't particularly make that clear. Also, Bailey's monopoly strategy is the same one I use that makes my brother furious, which essentially amounts to buying one property in every color so no one can put up hotels. That was the best strategic decision I ever made in monopoly.


	29. "I'm Yours" by Alessia Cara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises, Valentine's Day, and fluff

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Omfg I have less than 2min to find a NYE resolution!!!!!!! I’m stressing.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@13poppies @notthecountry understand that after the shit you just pulled your April Fool’s prank will be epic

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ I’m not worried. You won’t be in the country. You’ll be filming in America :P

 

**Hollis McQueen and Charlie Beck tease a Cadeyrn/Brody reunion on New Year’s**

Fans of the hit television show, _Ethereal_ , have been heartbroken since the third season finale premiered early last May when the shows most shipped couple after Naoise (Dexter Carroll) and Killian (Patrick Gallagher) broke up explosively, seemingly for good. At a New Year’s Eve party hosted by the show’s creator and screenwriter, Israel, McQueen and Beck teased at a possible reunion between their respective characters by posting a photo of the pair of them sharing kiss at midnight on the show’s official Twitter account captured with a winking emoticon. In a recent interview, Evelyn Merritt who plays Siobhan confirmed there would be major romantic developments in the tail end of the show’s season including a possible romance for Siobhan who has been notorious for her avoidance of dating throughout the past seasons. “There’s some definite resolution between Brody and Cadeyrn, but I can’t say what. I think people will really enjoy it, though.” We’re excited to find out, the show returns January 18th.

 

**Text message from Rory**

**Rory:** I know you’re still upset but if you could just answer your mother’s calls

**Rory:** Patrick, she really wants to talk to you about everything.

**Patrick:** I’m really not ready to deal with it.

 

**thebloodthirtsyandthebeast**

damn my babies are back :’)

#cadeyrn and brody #ethereal #kind of #they’re working together so…

**mychatrickheart**

Okay but NAOISE AND KILLIAN can we just

#i can’t even breathe

**savemesiobhan**

Yoooooo but Siobhan is totally digging her dragon-turned-human like yassss

#rise

**kingnaoisethebi**

Ok but I’m still waiting for the “just because killian is gay doesn’t mean Patrick is”

#real shit

**kickassqueenciara**

Just because he plays a gay character on tv doesn’t mean he has a boner for Charlie

**namethestarschatrick**

# and whoop there it is!

**beltanesbrodybae**

For fucks sake they haven’t even been hanging out recently chill psychos

**infochatrick**

You mean like when they ‘weren’t together’ on Charlie’s ‘date’ with Vanessa Parrish?

#until poppy debunked that #chaz’s sister is so awesome #god bless that woman

**namethestarschatrick**

#whoop there it is 2.0

 

 

* * *

**The Sentinel (@SentinelUK)**

SPOTTED: @CharlieBeck @Annika_Maran seen cozy having a pre-shoot breakfast for Valentine’s Day @TheWolseley

 

“Fuck you very much, Maggie,” Patrick spat at his phone like it had personally offended him.

Israel tipped hir head back and lowered hir shades down the bridge of hir nose to narrow hir eyes on him judgmentally. “Can she hear you or…?”

“I’m absolutely positive that she can actually,” he nodded his head, leaning down to peck Israel’s cheek and pouting as he held up the phone screen to display the Tweet. “Did you see this shite?”

“I saw that your sister’s working for _The Sentinel_. They’re like bottom of the barrel. Like lower than _The Sun_ and _The Inquisitr_ bottom of the barrel.” Israel remarked dispassionately, waving a hand dismissively and turning hir attention to Taylor who stood across the field with her phone pressed against her ear and a bored expression on her face as Li Min talked at her, gesticulating wildly. The petite blonde woman raised her eyebrows at Israel who snorted and two-finger saluted hir friend back before turning to Patrick. “Do you have any _actual_ gossip? Not PR-mandated promo. Like actual gossip that’ll make me happy. I’m not happy.”

“Why are you not happy?” Patrick inquired curiously, latching onto anything that would take his mind off of his boyfriend spending the morning of his birthday and arguably the most romantic date in the world having a fake breakfast date with an American starlet.

Glaring at him over the frame of hir glasses, Israel pushed them back up and turned her attention to Scout’s bickering with their part-time, on-again off-again Norwegian director, Anders, who’d come to observe and ended up getting chewed out. Anders had shot maybe a tenth of all the material across the board for _Ethereal_ over the last four years, but Scout hated him simply because Israel preferred his methodology and artistic approach to shooting. Taylor on a personal level also preferred Anders, he was easier to get along with, but professionally stuck with Scout every time as he was more reliable with both time management and staying on budget.

And, well, one was an artist and was a pragmatist, it was a wonder there weren’t _more_ fights like this.

"We’re not talking about _me_ ,” Israel returned without looking at him.

Scoffing, Patrick’s gaze flickered back to his phone, and Israel snatched it out of his hands without even a single look, tucking it in the pocket of hir canvas jacket and quirking an eyebrow. He sighed but didn’t argue.

“Fine. Uh…oh, Soren and Poppy have officially broken up.”

“That’s not _news_ ,” Israel argued. “It’s hardly the first time.”

“No, but I think this time its official. Been almost six weeks with no sign of her answering his phone calls.”

Tilting back hir head, Israel stared up at him through the curtain of hir thick, blunt bangs, a recent hairstyle that had come of the heels of hir shedding short braids for a shaggy bob and bangs that had been dyed cobalt blue. The look worked for hir, he thought, but he kept his opinion carefully quiet, knowing that ze hated talking about hir appearance almost more than ze hated compliments.

“That _is_ new,” ze whistled smartly. “What is it this time? The drinking? The pot? Did he do LSD again?”

“It was Ectasy,” Patrick pointed out. “I think that time she was really more pissed that he stuck his tongue down her little brother’s throat under the influence that the fact that he’d taken Ectasy at all.” Israel snorted but didn’t disagree with his approximation of the situation. Instead, ze crooked an eyebrow and stared at him expectantly, wordlessly demanding that he continue. “No, no, but they weren’t on speaking terms when I saw her over Christmas. They were fighting.”

“About what?”

“Reva Benoit,” he confided, wiggling his eyebrows at hir.

“No,” Israel gasped, sitting up straight and tilting him a scandalized look. “I thought that was just tabloid bullshit again.”

“Nope,” he shook his head, “nope, apparently she thought they were getting too close for comfort. He swore it was just a friendship they struck up when they met last February at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.”

“Lie?”

Patrick nodded vigorously, “Oh yeah. Poppy and Charlie’s friend, Willamina Leddy, that Canadian model chick saw him making out with her in Bootsy Bellows in LA at New Year’s Eve, which _did not_ make the news.”

“Affairs usually don’t.”

“So Poppy’s pissed.”

“I’d fucking think so.”

“Especially since she hates Reva Benoit as it is.”

“Why?”

Shrugging, Patrick narrowed his eyes on Scout’s increasingly antagonistic ‘creative disagreement’ with Anders. Taylor, too, had forgone her phone call to cross her arms over her chest and glare malevolently at the two men. She slanted a ‘can you fucking believe these two assholes’ look towards Li Min who shook her head and rolled her eyes, leaning against Taylor like they were sharing camaraderie on the ridiculousness that was the human male. Frankly, just this once he could understand the sentiment.

He cocked his head and studied the pair of them with incredulity.

Evelyn and Sienna stood by the buffet table sipping waters and munching on kettle chips in full costume and makeup as their eyes followed Anders and Scout with bemusement like they were an interesting tennis match instead of their directors who were _supposed_ to be shooting.

Israel elbowed him, and Patrick jerked his attention back to his friend.

“I don’t know why. I know Chaz was supposed to stunt with her but didn’t, and his mother didn’t like her even before that. Their personalities didn’t mesh, I guess.”

“Well, she’s got a reason to hate her now,” Israel stated.

Patrick nodded in agreement.

“Christ, are we ever gonna fucking _start_?” Hollis huffed as she sauntered over in skintight leather ensemble with her arms crossed over her chest and a harassed expression on her face.

“Men,” Israel snorted, shaking hir head and eyeing them skeptically.

His head turned to her with a considering look, and Israel’s lips turned up as if ze realized the directions his thoughts had turned towards. Namely something along the lines of: _so were you born a female, then?_

“Don’t tell me you disagree babers,” ze remarked, and Patrick grumbled as ze let out a loud, outright laugh. Israel tapped hir fingernails against Patrick’s wrist with a smirk and sing-songed, “‘The world may never know.’”

Hollis leaned around Patrick to eye Israel musingly. “I know your birth assigned gender,” she waggled her eyebrows at Israel who scoffed but didn’t negate what she’d said. They all took a minute to stare as Scout threw his hands up while Anders threw his head back with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair and rolling his eyes as he shook his head at Scout’s dramatics.

Everyone in the vicinity seemed to concur with Anders’s wordless approximation.

“Fucking hell,” Hollis muttered with a grimace. “I have a date I’d like to get to sometime today.”

Patrick and Israel’s heads whipped around as they gaped at her. “You do?”

Scowling, Hollis glared at them. “Yeah, I _do_. I’m not a monk. I just don’t like to stunt, and that means I keep all my relationships on the DL.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dexter inquired as he sauntered up and rested his chin on Hollis’s shoulder.

“Who said it’s a guy?” Hollis replied.

Patrick and Israel glanced at each other, bemused and curious. Israel tapped hir fingers on the arm of the chair. “ _Is_ it?”

“Yes,” Hollis nodded, poking Dexter in the side, “but _you_ shouldn’t assume.”

“ _Who_ is this _guy_?” Patrick demanded in surprise, a flare of protectiveness welling within him. He’d spent four years working with her and in all that time there had been sight of anyone in her life other than her family in Brooklyn who she helped support with a portion of her income.

“Who wants to talk about me? Let’s talk about _you_.” Hollis returned, wincing as Scout hurled his water bottle at a terrified production assistant in frustration while Anders watched him, arms crossed over his chest completely unimpressed by his temper tantrum.

Dexter, who’d been cast as Naoise (with Israel’s permission) starting in season two, showed up when and if he felt like it, flitting in and out of everyone’s lives with as much fluidity of the character he’d played on television. On television, his mixed-race, Asian-Irish were highlighted, giving him an androgynous look with long dark hair that fell to his waist and often plaited, his lavender eyes played up with mascara and eyeliner, and fitted clothes that showed off his lithe figure. In reality…he wasn’t all that much different. His hair falling to his shoulder blades and twisted up in a ponytail as he dressed in flowing layers and knee-length jumpers paired with leggings and fitted pants. Naturally, Charlie adored him and had since Dexter had not only humored him – but _indulged_ – in a shopping trip on Oxford Street.

Beaming brightly, Dexter asked, “You have something planned for our lovely Charlie boy’s birthday?”

"You’re all _so_ nosey.” Patrick blushed and shook his head in embarrassment, as a smile began to spread across his face. “But _yes_ , I did. I do. What about you Dexter?”

“I’m ace and aro.”

Israel choked. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Dexter shrugged delicately. “I don’t believe in Valentine’s Day anyway. You shouldn’t need one specific day to _prove_ you love someone, you know?”

“What would _you_ know about it?” Israel returned.

“Do you and Jazz celebrate Valentine’s Day?” He shot back challengingly.

Coughing, Israel balked, “Of _course_ not. It’s a fucking stupid holiday where we glorify a man’s death. Ridiculous.” Dexter smirked, and ze stilled, tensing, and huffing as ze sighed, hir shoulders drooping in defeat. “See your point.”

“Um-hmm,” Dexter nodded primly, grinning at Hollis. “Now tell us about _your_ guy. Who’s is he?”

Hollis colored and cleared her throat nervously. She laughed awkwardly and tugged at the end of her curls as she looked towards Anders and Scout. “Um…my _boyfriend_ …of like six years.” They all turned to her in shock, and Hollis heaved a noncommittal shrug. She pursed her lips, looking at the three of them before sighing and admitting, “Fine. Travis is in the Navy. We meet my senior year of high school during Fleet Week and started going out, never really stopped. Most of the time his leave coincides with our break, and I see him then, but he’s got off this year and is coming here. To see me.”

“How long’s he _been_ here?” Dexter replied slowly.

“Yeah, how long have you been _hiding_ him,” Patrick clarified.

“Oh my God, if it makes all you mother hens back the fuck off, we can do dinner tomorrow.”

“Yes,” all three of them nodded. Hollis rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over chest as her gaze shifted to Scout. Dexter blinked up at Hollis lazily in a way that would make most of both the male and female population swoon. Patrick had a little trouble fighting through the daze as it was. Everything about Dexter was ethereally pretty. His being asexual _and_ aromantic was probably a gift to the world; the world at large couldn’t handle that much swoon-worthy andro-man. Hollis, though, completely ignored his existence, eyes going wide as she slapped both Patrick and Dexter, pointing as her mouth fell open shock.

Patrick turned, his mouth falling open in shock at the sight of Anders planting a kiss on Scout. Mostly, it seemed to be an attempt to make him shut up; but also, there was so much intimacy that it clearly wasn’t a _first_ kiss. “No fucking way.”

“When did this happen?” Israel gaped, meeting Taylor’s shocked gaze across the field. She shrugged.

Hollis gripped Dexter’s arm tightly as Scout pulled back, clearing his throat and blushing red. Anders smirked triumphantly as Scout rubbed the back of his neck, trying to stifle his growing smile and clapped his hands together. “Don’t you all have work to be doing?!”

* * *

“He _what_?” Charlie gasped, laughing as he put a hand over his mouth. He drew his knees up to his chest and leaned against Patrick, pressing his face against Patrick’s neck. “Anders and _Scout_. What the actual fuck? I thought Scout was married.”

“To Anders maybe,” Patrick replied as he took a sip of his beer and grinned at Charlie who made a face of alarm and shook his head, dissolving into giggles he tried to stifle by taking a bite of his steak and ale pie.

For their birthday/Valentine’s Day date, Patrick had found a showing of _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ , one of Charlie’s favorite classic films, at the Roxy Bar and Screen that they’d only just made when filming had wrapped. Aaron had worked a miracle and weaved through excessive rush hour traffic downtown to reach the cinema while Patrick had been stressing in the backseat over the possibility of missing Charlie’s surprise party.

He’d never been to the Roxy, but it was a good choice.

Food. Alcohol. A film that they both loved in a beautiful, intimate cinema with dark tuxedo sofas, crimson draping on the wall, and lowlight. Even all the people around who could potentially get photos and piss off their studio and respective managers couldn’t ruin Patrick’s mood.

Throwing his legs over Patrick’s, Charlie leaned over to steal a bite of his sausage and mash with a broad grin. His raised his eyebrows up and down with a smirk, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips and laughing brightly. A soft, slow smile spread across Patrick’s face as he studied his boyfriend’s profile, his eyes bright, his smile wide, and his happiness genuine and unrestrained. An elderly couple further up front smiled back at them sweetly, the woman nudging her husband gently and pressing a hand lightly to his chest as he smiled down at her adoringly.

Patrick leaned over to press a kiss to Charlie’s temple, tapping his fingers on Charlie’s bicep and resting his chin on his shoulder. Peering up at him with the slightest furrow between his brows, Charlie tilted his head up and met Patrick’s lips in a peck and then another that turned into a long, lingering kiss as he squeezed Patrick’s thigh before turning his gaze back to the screen of his phone.

“What are you doing?” He inquired curiously, running his fingers through Charlie’s hair.

Charlie smirked, “Stalking this Travis guy’s Facebook.”

“You have a Facebook?”

“ _Salem_ has a Facebook,” Charlie corrected, “that _I_ am using to stalk Chief Petty Officer Travis J. Delwyn from Portland, Oregon who is going to officer candidate school after his February leave is up. At least, that’s what his Facebook status was before ‘going to see _my love_ in London.’ Three exclamation marks.”   

Nipping Charlie’s ear lightly, he smirked when Charlie shot him a feigned warning look tempered with blatant lust. Patrick beamed innocently, massaging Charlie’s scalp with the tip of his fingers and beaming as he moaned softly, turning to muffle the sound in Patrick’s neck. He tugged Charlie’s mobile phone from his fingers and thumbed through some of Travis’s pictures that seemed primarily comprised of group shots with his crewmates and couples shots of him and Hollis being adorable.

“Don’t most people have these things on private?”

“Hmm?” Charlie purred as he pressed a kiss to Patrick’s neck. Patrick grinned and tugged a strand of Charlie’s hair hard enough for him to yelp before moaning, dropping his head back against the sofa back with a winded look. Patrick flicked him, and Charlie huffed and nodded, “Yeah. He did, but then I friended him and messaged him saying that I worked with Hollis.”

“He believed you?”

“I also sent him a screenshot with a newspaper that has today’s date.”

“A _physical_ newspaper?” Patrick inquired haltingly.

Charlie grimaced and nodded his head. “I sent Sadie to get one. I feel like that was borderline abuse.”

“She’s your PA.”

“She’s my _cousin_ ,” Charlie pouted. Laughing, Patrick leaned to press another kiss to his lips.

“Happy birthday, sunshine.”

Charlie hummed and grinned up at him, reaching up to cup his cheek as he stretched up to kiss him again as the light turned down. Patrick gripped the back of Charlie’s neck, leaning in and tugging on Charlie’s hair to draw a moan from him. He licked into Charlie’s mouth, groaning softly as their tongues tangled together. Charlie snaked an arm around Patrick’s neck and pulled himself practically into Patrick’s lap.

Someone cleared their throat from behind, and they jerked away, Patrick blushing and Charlie biting his lip and ducking his head with an abashed smile.

Patrick peered over the edge of the sofa and smiled at the woman glaring at him beside her wide-eyed child and smirking husband. “Sorry.” She hmmphed and shook her head while her husband chuckled and shook his head. He turned back to Charlie who rubbed the back of his neck as he tossed Patrick a sultry grin, the lust in his eyes not helping Patrick’s already half-hard dick relax. “No, not here. Not now.”

“I better get a damn good present for all this restraint you want from me,” Charlie purred, resting his head against Patrick’s shoulder.

“Saint Laurent boots. OPI nail varnish. Oh, this great steel and titanium necklace from Tiffany’s.” Patrick teased with a smirk, feeling Charlie’s glare focused on him, because as much as Charlie loved all those things, he loved sex considerably more. Charlie punched him lightly in the ribs with a scowl, and Patrick leaned down to kiss the ridge of Charlie’s ear. “And, okay, there _might_ be cuffs, a vibrating dildo, and me riding your dick definitively in your future.”

“Oh is there?” Charlie replied, palming Patrick’s half-hard cock through his jeans.

He smirked evilly as Patrick drew in a quick, ragged breath, narrowing his eyes on Charlie. “You’re the devil.”

Charlie grinned and brought a finger to his lips to shush him, pointing to the screen as he stole a sip of Patrick’s beer. “The movie’s about to start.” He tipped back his head and leaned in to peck Patrick’s lips soundly, whispering against them, “I love you, Pattycake. Thank you verily, Irishman for a fantastic birthday.”

“Don’t butter me up just ‘cause you want to get laid.”

Charlie only grinned wider and settled himself more firmly against Patrick. Shaking his head and smiling, he rested an arm over Charlie’s legs thrown across his lap and let himself enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up and content with the man he loved.


	30. "A.D.I.D.A.S" by Little Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embarrassing breakfasts with the famil(ies) and departures.

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

I’m gonna cry 2nite. It’s our penultimate cast wrap party :’( :’( :’(

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@SightsOnSienna find some chill ffs. It’s MY baby #soembarrassing

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

@notthecountry :P stop being mean to me

 

To: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

From: shannonfromcork@gmail.co.uk

Subject: The family

So you’ll never even guess: first your mother’s been an absolute fucking wreck and Rory’s worried about her (you should call). Also, I’m going to be up in London for a job interview in a couple days, and I’m bringing Brian and Adam with me to check out some universities so you should let us stay with you, for starters, and also we should do lunch (preferably with the boyfriend and Ra-Ra if you can find her).

Let me know Pat,

Shannon

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Avery:** Your flight’s booked to LA

**Patrick:** Ok…

**Avery:** Why do you not seem happy about this?

**Avery:** You’re filming a batman movie!!!!!!

**Patrick:** You being perpetually single wouldn’t understand

**Avery:** Rude!

**Avery:** It’s only a 14hr flight time from Sydney to LAX

**Patrick:** …youre such a dick.

**Avery:** See I know things!

 

**Text message from Dickwad Xavier**

**Dickwad Xavier:** The studio and us have let a lot slide

**Dickwad Xavier:** Especially your very public valentine’s date with Patrick

**Charlie:** That Harry killed before it made the news u mean?

**Dickwad Xavier:** I’m just sending a message to make sure there isn’t a repeat incident

**Dickwad Xavier:** Especially as you’re both leaving town for the summer

**Dickwad Xavier:** Also if he is staying in your home we need to make sure that doesn’t get reported

**Charlie:** Why would it?

**Dickwad Xavier:** Don’t be obstinate.

**Charlie:** Don’t be such an asshole. Next time I’d rather just talk to Harry. Thanks.

 

**Text message from Harry BS**

**Harry BS:** Will you be pissed if I brought up u stunting in Sydney?

**Charlie:** Would you be pissed if I mentioned lunch with Pat’s family?

**Harry BS:** Someone would.

**Harry BS:** I have a plan.

**Charlie:** I’d rather not know.

**Harry BS:** That’s good because I still need to plan everything out. I won’t be telling you.

* * *

Shannon tilted her head and brushed some red-gold ringlets out of her face with a delicate sweep of her fingers, tucking the lock of hair behind her ears as she grinned lasciviously up at Charlie. “Oh my God, I’m ridiculously jealous you get to have sex with that every night.”

Patrick sighed while Ra-Ra, her arm looped through Poppy’s, threw her head back and laughed while tugging Poppy down beside her. Patrick seemed genuinely distressed by his cousin’s comment. Charlie only tossed her a charming, flirtatious grin while Adam eyed him with hungrily; Patrick narrowed his eyes on his cousin.

“Me too,” Adam purred.

Charlie raised his eyebrows with a smug, proud smirk while Patrick scoffed and lightly shoved him towards the table.

Brian rolled his eyes, fighting back an amused smile as he shook his head lightly. Adam shrugged like he didn’t know what the problem was, and Patrick pointed a finger at him in wordless warning for him to cut the shit.

Never one to shirk such an opening to brag about his sex life, Charlie sat with an impish grin and half-shrugged. “Me three. Watching arse get pounded with a dildo already filling me and a cock ring wrapped around the base of my cock keeping me from coming and my hands tied to the headboard so I couldn’t move made even _me_ weep with envy.”

“That was pre-cum,” Patrick pointed out while the waitress stuttered to a halt. Charlie threw back his head and laughed, reaching out to take the waitress’s hand while Patrick turned red, his eyes flitting up to stare at the ceiling like he was silently begging God to take back his words.

Honest to God, his boyfriend was such a fucking drama queen.

Also, a bit ridiculous, because the man had no problem sticking anal beads, dildos, his dick, and butt plugs he left in his ass to keep in his cum all day and watch him struggle to keep from popping a boner at inopportune moments. But, you know, God forbid someone make a public comment about their sex life. He turned red as a lobster and stuttered like a little boy who’d only just entered puberty and learned what all the words meant.

Smiling sweetly up at the woman, Charlie watched her blush and melt, slowly smiling back at him. “Ignore him. He’s Irish, love. He’s already drunk. He’s _been_ drunk since eight o’clock this morning.”

“Since he breaskfasted on your pre-cum?” Adam teased.

Brian choked on his water, and Poppy turned a bit grin while Patrick went even redder, shaking his head and looking to Charlie beseechingly. “Make them go away, Chazza,” Patrick pleaded.

Their waitress nodded uncertainly, “So…coffee?”

“Yes,” Charlie nodded definitively, pausing with wide eyes. “Wait. No. No. Tea please for me. Decaf for big mouth.”

“I don’t drink decaf,” Patrick pouted.

Charlie grinned at him, “I know.” He turned to the waitress and kissed the back of her hand, winking as her and making her giggle. She nodded and walked away, shaking her head in a daze and fanning herself. Charlie watched her with amusement as he turned back to meet Poppy’s gaze across the table. She shook her head, “How’ve you been brother mine?”

Patrick caught his hand and laced their fingers together beneath the table.

“Fine,” he started.

Scoffing, Patrick interjected, “Pretty pissy, actually.”

Rolling her eyes, Poppy looked to Patrick, “Is this because Salem’s back in the States?”

“It’s _temporary_ ,” Charlie insisted.

“Yes, it is,” Patrick said pointedly. Charlie stuck his tongue out at him, and Patrick rolled his eyes, leaning over to press a kiss to Charlie’s lips. Brian, Ra-Ra, and Poppy booed while Adam and Shannon waggled each other’s eyebrows at each other. Patrick flipped them both off, kissing his and Charlie’s entwined hands. His lips curved up into a gentle smile as he looked at Patrick, the butterflies in his stomach that time hadn’t managed to quell beating furiously. “And you _just_ saw him.”

Charlie frowned over at him. “Okay, I didn’t _just_ see him. It was over a week ago. Irial and Cris’s wedding was lovely though.”

“Oh you _saw_ it?” Patrick asked archly. Charlie pursed his lips and glared at him as Patrick smirked over at him, “I thought you were too busy gossiping with Salem.”

Poppy smiled longingly, “Cris and Irial’s wedding. Ugh. I want to be that disgustingly, blissfully happy with someone.”

Ra-Ra pursed her lips as Charlie looked over at Patrick, meeting his eyes briefly and looking away quickly, his cheeks heating as he bit his lip and looked down at their interlaced fingers. Patrick lifted their hands to press a kiss to his ring finger with a knowing smile on his face, and Charlie studied him through eyes welling with tears, looking away swiftly and blinking rapidly, tossing his hair out of his eyes.

“I want to be Giselle Bundchen…minus the husband and kids,” Ra-Ra confessed while Poppy and Shannon glanced first at each other in disbelief and then at her skeptically. Charlie pursed his lips and stared at Patrick’s cousin incredulously.

Patrick cleared his throat, and Charlie smiled up at the waitress in thanks as she placed the tea and coffee down on the table. He looked over at Charlie. “Do you know what you want?”

“I didn’t even look,” he murmured as everyone else ordered.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, Patrick smiled serenely and leaned around him. “Can we have a Full English Breakfast and French Toast?”

“To share?” She asked, looking between the pair of them with a growing smile.

“Of course, that’s a lot of food, and _I_ don’t eat bacon.”

Smiling demurely, she nodded and tapped the end of her pen against the pad. “I’ll get that right out to you guys.”

“Thank you, love,” Charlie flirted, and she giggled and waved a hand dismissively. He turned to everyone, his eyes flitting over Adam, Brian, and Shannon before settling on the fiery redheaded woman. He rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand with a smiling curling the edges of his lips. “Why is everyone in London, then?”

Brian and Adam shared a look while Shannon cleared her throat anxiously and looked over to Patrick. “When do you leave for LA?”

“Tonight,” Patrick deadpanned, “don’t change the subject. What’s got everyone here?”

Shannon looked over at Adam and Brian who hesitated before meeting her eyes. Clearing her throat, she feigned a smile. “I have a job interview. I graduate this May from university, and I have an interview…with Harry Benton-Sterling.”

Charlie and Patrick glanced over at each other, gaping, turning to her in tandem and saying, “You’re kidding.”

Poppy nodded, “He’s an operator, that one.”

“Um-hm,” Ra-Ra agreed.

Tucking a curl behind her ear and smiling timidly, Shannon admitted sadly, “I need to leave Cork. I can’t stay there not with dad and certainly not with Kelly. It’s a bit much really, lovey. There’s only so much hostility that I can grow up around. Besides, it’s a bit hard to have a career in PR in a place where no one needs it.”

Looking over at his cousin with tears in his eyes, Patrick pursed his lips together and nodded his head, angrily brushing back tears, missing them because of how much his hands trembled. With a quick shake of his head, Charlie reached over and brushed them off. Brusquely but still gently, Patrick pushed his hand away, squeezing it kindly before letting go.

“I think you’d make a wonderful publicist, Shannon.”

“You hate publicists,” Shannon returned.

“Nature of the job,” Charlie answered for him, and Patrick smiled but didn’t disagree. “Kanani and Catriona are looking for a flatmate. So is Rosemary Ireland, I happen to know. They’re both in the same building as well. Kimura Izumi, Salem and Michi’s sister, is probably going to be getting her own place soon.”

Patrick laughed, and Shannon shook her head, overwhelmed but happy. “I didn’t even get the job yet, Chaz.”

“But you will,” Charlie replied.

“You’re outspoken, dedicated, and, well, a redhead, which he has a fondness for.”

“Shoe-in,” Charlie finished for Patrick. Shannon blushed and shook her head as Charlie turned to Adam and Brian. “What are you two in for then? Uni?”

The two boys glanced at each other, and Patrick studied them uneasily. “How’s home like?”

Brian laughed bitterly, “Well, Adam’s parents are getting divorced.”

“Are they actually?” Patrick spat, aghast, turning to Ra-Ra who pressed her lips together in a hard line and looked away. “Because of…”

Ra-Ra nodded, “His mam’s being a bit of a cunt. Cody’s had enough. Rightly so I’d say.”

“And David’s pissed as all fuck. Refuses to speak to both _our_ every time they’ve tried to talk to him in _jail_. Told us he’s no desire to deal with their petty shite when he has bigger things to worry about than their delicate sensibilities,” Brian informed with an air of vindicated smugness that Charlie thought it best not to comment on, sipping his tea.

Turning to Adam who seemed nearly ready to break down in tears, Patrick asked gently as Charlie reached out to grip the younger boy’s hand in a gesture of comfort, “How are the girls?”

“Refusing to speak to mam. And she’s refusing to speak _me_. And da’s refusing to talk to everyone except granddad and gran. It’s a bit of a mess if I’m honest.” Adam wiped away tears furiously. “It’s my fault.”

“Shut up ye cunt,” Brian huffed, though his tone was affectionate. “It’s your mam’s, and my parents for Lord’s sake. You liking cock is no one’s concern but yours.”

Poppy reached over and whacked Brian in the back of the head. “Language at brunch, dickhead.”

Brian pointed a finger at her while Poppy grinned and took a sip of her mimosa, completely ignoring him. Charlie eyed his sister carefully, “So it’s fine to curse if we’re talking about sex, but not for any other reason?”

“Correct,” Poppy replied.

“Got it, slag,” Charlie nodded, and she gaped, flipping him off.

“I thought you wanted to stay in Ireland for uni?” Patrick asked hesitantly.

Brian and Adam exchanged another loaded look before Adam answered. “Gran…and my da told me it might be best for me to go away for uni. Somewhere…less poisonous, did they say, Bri?”

Brian confirmed this with a nod of his head and remarked, “And I agreed. Our whole family’s lost their collective minds. Granddad and Gran are about ready to murder their own children. David’s shunnin’ ‘em all from lock-up. Ra-Ra’s here. You’re here. Shannon’s _gonna_ be here. Uncle Cody and Aunt Irene are getting a divorce, and with her behavior, Cody’ll be getting’ the girls. He’s been looking to move here anyway, for work. I figured I might as well come.”

“Like you’d let him go alone,” Ra-Ra scoffed at her brother.

Brian grinned, “That too.”

“Found a place you like then?” Charlie asked.

“UEL for me,” Brian told them all. “Adam’s smart or summat. He’s been looking into Greenwich for some fancy science thing.”

“You’re not living with me,” Patrick warned him.

“Did we ask?” Brian demanded, offended.

“You were going to,” Patrick huffed.

Brian smirked, and Adam rolled his eyes. “We might try for a place together.”

“That’s expensive,” Poppy told them honestly.

“I know some people,” Charlie said brightly.

Patrick side-eyed him exasperated, “I’ll bet you do.”

Shrugging, Charlie leaned over to peck Patrick’s lips, whispering, “I’ll admit…I know everyone.”

“So _Salem_ knows everyone,” Patrick corrected.

Charlie huffed, “Absolute arse. Why do I love you?” Patrick laughed and met his gaze, squeezing his hand without bothering to address the innocent tease, because, even as a joke, they both knew why.

* * *

 

Stopping in front of the security checkpoint at Heathrow, Charlie crossed his arms over his waist and looked at his boyfriend apprehensively, committing every memory to detail.

This summer would be hard. Harder than usual, surely.

Where he was so used to seeing Patrick every few weeks when they _hadn’t_ been in a relationship, this would be their first summer spent apart as an official couple and trips back and forth wouldn’t be possible for at least nine weeks. Not when Patrick would spend three months back and forth from London to New York shooting his movie, and Charlie had promised his half-siblings he’d spend time with them while filming in Sydney. There’d be no quick rendezvous or international jetsetting to indulge the desire to get their hands on each other when the mood struck them.

Snow would be in Irial Greyson and Cris Emerson’s tender care while Charlie and Patrick worked.

He needed to get it together. Get used to it.

_Ethereal_ wrapped in less than twelve months and with no possibility for a show renewal – and no desire on Israel’s part to continue the story she’d set to tell – everything would change.

They were actors, and if they weren’t on the same set of the same television show nine months out of the year, they’d be doing this for the foreseeable future. Working jobs at opposite ends of the earth and trying to sync their schedules for five moments alone to sate their lust and their love-starved affections.

This would be as much a test for their relationship as it would be a trial by fire.

Charlie needed to get it together. They did this – _well, sort of_ – all the time.

Patrick adjusted the bag on his shoulder and tugged the beanie – _Charlie’s_ beanie – over his windswept dark hair. His dark eyes landed on Charlie, and he smiled uncertainly, a watery, melancholy smile that made Charlie’s heart clench painfully in his chest. Reaching out, Patrick caught both of Charlie’s hands in his and tugged him closer, placing a tender kiss on his lips.

“Don’t cry,” Patrick told him softly, pleadingly. “If you cry. I’ll cry. And we’ll be standing here in the middle of Heathrow balling like babies.” Charlie laughed, and Patrick reached up to brush a silent tear, lone tear from his cheek before cupping it in his palm. “We’ll talk everyday. We’ll text and Snapchat and tweet and insta-whatever. You’ll Skype me when you need to get laid, and I’ll listen to you bitch about your family, though preferably not when you have a prostate massager in your arse but, honestly, after a certain point I probably won’t be picky.”

He laughed and nodded.

Patrick smiled lovingly, “And when you’re done shooting some silly Indie crap about oceans – ”

“Shut the fuck up, Patty. What are you even talking about?” Charlie said lightly as Patrick took another step towards him, cupping his face in his hands and holding Charlie’s gaze captive.

“You’ll come to LA, and we’ll have entirely too much sex in your pool and on your motorcycle and irritate the ever loving shite out of your manager and the studio. Yes?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“It _does_ ,” Patrick agreed, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s lips, heedless of the possible consequences. Charlie smiled against his lips, deepening it, and they stood there for a moment, in the middle of the busy London airport with Charlie’s hands clenched on the fabric of Patrick’s hoodie and Patrick’s hands cupping Charlie’s face, kissing like two people desperate and starved. “I love you, Sunshine,” Patrick whispered against Charlie lips, pressing one last fierce, close-mouthed kiss to his lips that still managed to steal Charlie’s breath away as he backed up. “Okay, I’ve seriously got to go now, but keep in touch!”

Charlie laughed and nodded, watching his boyfriend’s retreating figure as Aaron came up beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, letting him sob.


	31. "All My Love (Remix) by Major Lazer ft. Ariana Grande & Machel Montana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The (extended) family holiday in Sydney

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@SinTatu gracing me with his exalted presence at LAX :D

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** When do you take off for Sydney?

**Charlie:** Ridiculously disgustingly soon.

**Patrick:** You acting like you’re not flying on ur dad’s private jet

**Charlie:** Fuuuuuucccccckkkkk off

**Charlie:** It’s still a long ass flight

**Patrick:** Youll be with Aaron?

**Charlie:** And Sylvie and Hannah

**Patrick:** R they spending the whole time wit u in Sydney?

**Charlie:** Hannah hasnt decided but Aaron wants her to

**Charlie:** I’m being paged. G2g pattycake

**Patrick:** Txt me when u land heifer!

**Charlie:** course Trick BD .xx

 

**Irish heartthrob takes Hollywood by storm!**

Young, single, and patented sweetheart, Patrick Gallagher, arrived in Hollywood less than a week ago and has already charmed – and _partied_ – with most of the town’s star-studded A-list. Only hours after his arrival, Gallagher was spotted in company of friend and _Arkham Unveiled_ castmate, Sinclair Tatu, at Bootsy Bellows in downtown Los Angeles. Its been almost nonstop parties since then, mostly in company of Tatu and fellow castmates post-filmings. He even, reportedly, hosted a private party in celebration after they wrapped their first day of filming on Monday, though no one’s been able to find out _where_ or even who attended as Gallagher does not have an official residence in the city. In the wake of his breakup with ex-girlfriend and _Ethereal_ costar, Evelyn Merritt, last year, Gallagher hasn’t been officially linked to any woman since that time, but with the amount he’s been spotted cozying up with popstars and A-list actresses, we’re certainly rooting for seeing our favorite Irishman in love.

**Comment from Anonymous:** Sigh, we’re doing this.

**Comment from Anonymous:** Question: why do we care so much about celebrities? Like I’m an Ethereal fan. I’m a Batman fan. I’m a Patrick Gallagher fan. I don’t care that a twenty-something-year-old dude from the UK parties and hooks up with he’s in LA.

**Comment from tashania456:** Why are they name dropping him throwing a party if he doesn’t even have an official residence.

**Comment from futuremrspatrickgallagher:** **@tashania456** now you’ve done it. They’re going to be out full force

**Comment from Anonyous:** Because he’s sucking Charlie Beck’s dick/getting grossly domestic with him and staying in his house while he’s in LA and everyone knows. That’s why.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Hiya again Australia. It’s been a while.

 

**Sadie Beck (@sweetlysadie)**

Omfg HOME. I’m gonna fangirl over wheel touching down on Australian soil :’D :’D :’D

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

Cc: xavier.wilson@redlettermgmt.org

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Stunting

Obviously, I vetoed this, but obviously, Xavier still has final say over absolute nonsense like this. So, as it stands, we’re all well aware that you’re both filming and trying to spend time with your family as you haven’t seen them in a long time, but the studio as well as your management would like you to put some extra distance between rumors about your and Patrick (because apparently three months in thousands of kilometers apart didn’t quite manage that effectively enough). Arrangements have been made for you and Australian soap star, Lola Packwin, to go yachting this weekend while you’re off.

Let me know if you have any questions (or comments),

Harold B. Sterling

P.S. I’ve arranged for everything to be at a time conducive to not interrupting your usual time of contacting Patrick

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** Could you kindly stop sending me xrated pics when im on set/at dinners

**Charlie:** Xrated pics? What xrated pics?

**Patrick:** You know what xrated pics perv.

**Charlie:** I prefer the titled satan, lord of all sexual deviancy and evil

**Charlie:** And surely you dont mean the ones of me posing with a plug in my ass

**Charlie:** Or fucking myself on a vibrating dildo

**Charlie:** Or coming in front of mirror

**Patrick:** It’s porn

**Charlie:** It’s art

**Charlie:** You love it

**Patrick:** One day you’re accidentally gonna post that shit to your snapchat story instead of to me

**Patrick:** Im just gonna laugh

**Charlie:** Youll absolutely cream urself first

**Patrick:** Yeah probs. My bf’s sexy as sin what can I say

**Patrick:** It’s a crime the world doesnt get to see it

**Charlie:** Objection! I feel objectified

**Patrick:** I didn’t take pictures and videos of you fucking yourself into incoherency

**Charlie:** Not this time

**Patrick:** Objection: heresay

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

That awkward moment when security searches your bag out in the open. My grandma knows way too much about my sex life #confirmed

 

**Charlie and Lola call it quits!**

Australian soap star, Lola Packwin, and young British heartthrob and actor, Charlie Beck, have been spotted together throughout Sydney since the infamous actor arrived in Sydney to shoot highly anticipated film, _Surf and Turf_. According to reports, the pair met during a filming after party and have been near inseparable since, sources confirming Beck had even introduced the woman to his father and action star, Samuel Beck. Despite appearances, a source close to the former couple have confirmed he _did_ break it off with her after almost a month of dating. “She [Packwin] didn’t think [Beck] was taking it as seriously as he ought to, and he [Charlie] thought [Lola] was too all-in. It was just a case of them being at different places in their lives. Charlie’s only twenty-one. Lola’s twenty-seven. She’s looking for a family, and Charlie’s still out…well…sewing wild oats, so to say.” Beck’s reps refused to comment on the claim that Charlie’s promiscuity caused the split, but Beck’s close friend and tech mogul, Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, stated in a recent interview with radio show hosts, Irial Greyson and Cheryl Atterberry, “‘Sewing wild oats’ the whole thing’s ridiculous. And it’s even more ridiculous that everyone wants to talk about a twenty-one year old _wanting_ that instead of the twenty-seven year old who supposedly wants him to stop and settle down with her after a one month fling while he’s shooting on location. I just don’t get why everyone wants to eat him alive about this. It’s bullshit.”

**Comment from Anonymous:** Well…is Petrov wrong? (No)

**Comment from playingthesandbox:** Are we still pretending he’s not a disgusting manwhore who fucks everything that moves?

**Comment from asthecrowflies1:** Yes because that...is…not…true!!!!! Like what

**Comment from daikisbailey:** Can we talk about how they defaced a Disney children’s program?

**Comment from Anonymous:** ^^^^ the real issues we should be focusing on here people

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@StPatty_ ;)

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Salem_Daiki god bless you…but I have questions.

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@StPatty_ Don’t worry I got permission first

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Salem_Daiki god bless you squared

 

**Group MMS to Pattycake and Salem**

**Charlie:** Patricia’s driving me insane

**Salem:** Dare I even ask?

**Charlie:** She’s just as much of a nutball as she’s always been. Who marries this?

**Charlie:** Fuck it I’m moving out.

**Pattycake:** You only have 3wks more tough it out

**Charlie:** Easy for you to say in my house alone relaxing in LA

**Pattycake:** You’re not relaxing

**Salem:** You should try surfing. I heard that’s relax.

**Pattycake:** Oh, Sale, wait…

**Salem:** Wait, yeah, you DO surf! #idiot

**Charlie:** Rocco’s a moron. He broke my surf board.

**Salem:** I’d hate to sound elitist here but BUY A NEW ONE.

**Charlie:** It’s the principle. They’ve broken me. I quit. I’m moving in with my grandma

**Pattycake:** And commuting from Perth?

**Charlie:** Fuck off I will find a way!

**Salem:** You’re dating this^

**Pattycake:** So did you

**Charlie:** >.<

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

#starwars marathon with the crew !!!!!!

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: somecallmejarek@gmail.com

Subject: I’m here-ish

Chazza,

I’m going to be in town shooting shots of the reef next week and wanted to know if you wanted to meet up. I won’t be text capable until I land in Australia so just shoot me an email if you want to meet. I don’t want to see the whole brood. Fyi.

Jarek

PS Dad doesn’t need to know (neither does grandma)

 

**Group MMS to Rosie and Sully**

**Harry:** I have a plan

**Sully:** As your solicitor, I’m saying no. I cannot advise this.

**Rosie:** Here we go.

**Sully:** However as you’re going to do it anyway…

**Harry:** …

**Sully:** Give me a written copy of your step by step plan that I can then set on fire and don’t legally have to file in case of an emergency.

**Sully:** I need to plan for contingencies

**Harry:** This is going to work

**Rosie:** This is dirty.

**Harry:** But it’s necessary.

**Rosie:** …yes

**Harry:** There’s time. We can’t do anything until he comes back.

 

To: somecallmejarek@gmail.com

From: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

Subject: RE: I’m here-ish

Rek,

It’s been ages since I’ve seen you. Of course we should meet up. You pick the place and the time. I’ll pay. No exceptions. (I told grandma because duh!)

Charlie

PPS I’m bringing your siblings even if we only sit and watch them run around at the beach

 

**darkeyesandirishlies**

HAVE YOU SEEN MY BABY PATRICK AND THOSE PICTURES OF HIM AND WILLAMINA LEDDY????

**somecallitpsychotic**

Because naturally being photographed dancing and drinking together at a Hollywood hotspot equals dating, right?

**darkeyesandirishlies**

Stay in your own lane!

#chatrick shippers #why are they so up everyone’s asses #go home crazy

**somecallitpsychotic**

Funny thing is you made this about Chatrick not me.

#I was just making a point

**chatrickheartscollide**

Funny thing is you’re not even a Chatrick blog

**theironyofbrody**

Funny thing is assuming based on public reported behavior is exactly what makes them call Chatrick shippers crazy

**andsotheytellme**

Funny thing is most Chatrick shippers only ship it casually anyway

#why people so salty about this #brotp #otp

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** If I threw a party in your house what would you say?

**Charlie:** Oh shit did they find our red room of pain?

**Patrick:** The 50shades one or the Marvel verse one?

**Charlie:** The latter

**Patrick:** No no we’re good :D

**Charlie:** Rolling my eyes

**Patrick:** But seriously…

**Charlie:** I’d say: was it at least a good party?

**Charlie:** …and you called my cleaning service within 12 hours right?

**Patrick:** Its ongoing

**Charlie:** It’s all tiled and hardwood for a reason pattycake. Don’t freak out .x

* * *

The first memory Charlie had of his older brother, Jarek Brzezicki, was of a pale, flat face peering at him from over the bannister with the expression of a child who expected to get kicked. And, in fairness, Charlie had been four, Jarek had been ten, and Poppy had been eight, standing on the staircase and pointing at the broken vase in front of Charlie’s foot – that  _Jarek_ had knocked over – cooing accusingly while stifling sniggers at the boys’ expense.

In hindsight, Charlie realized Jarek had been expecting accusations, tattle-telling, something unbecoming and expected from what seemed to be the happy, spoiled children of his actor father who’d abandoned him and his wife who owned the castle out in Surry he’d grudgingly – in his mind anyway – been invited to for the weekend.

What he’d ended up with was sibling solidarity and a mutual blame as Poppy and Charlie spun a fantastical tale of a chase, an argument, and tossing around Barbie dolls that had accidently sent the Ming vase airborn and plummeting three stories to the ground floor. Samuel had rolled his eyes skeptically but hadn’t pressed much harder. Libby had glanced between the three of them and narrowed her eyes on a shame-faced Jarek before clapping her hands together and promptly declaring she’d made cupcake and would anyone like to share them.

Their Slavic half-brother and the oldest of the Beck clan, considered himself the least welcome, least attractice, and least like the rest of the family who lived and died for the limelight.

With a flat, unremarkable face, his mother’s crystal blue Polish eyes, and a mop of pale, washed out blond hair, he’d spent his childhood being mockingly referred to as ‘The Scarecrow’ until Poppy had put her fist in the face of one little torturer backstage at a runway show, and Charlie, the more devious but considerably less brash of the two, managed to systematically find each one of their greatest desires of the moment and rip it from their fingertips just as their skin skimmed it. After the son of a reality tv star and his rock star girlfriend broke down in tears when Charlie purposefully auditioned for a role he had no interest in just to spite the little bitch when he got the part with a smug smirk, no one had ever called Jarek that again.

Not that they’d had the chance.

 Jarek had met his mentor and part-time lover, Lorraine de Morche, a dark-skinned, dark-haired photographer from Cote d’Ivoire, at a fashion photoshoot of Poppy’s when she’d been doing an exhibition on nature and fashion.

Lorraine had taken him on as an apprentice and had helped him land the job he’d wanted at National Geographic. Half the time, Jarek and Lorraine spent fucking across the globe, and the other half, Jarek was so far deep in the wilds of third world countries he couldn’t be reached for anything or with anything.

Every time Charlie saw his elder brother, the man looked harder, more rugged, and less the pale-faced, straw-haired kid with a lot of anger and no outlet, anger that had only grown when Samuel had left Libby – who both Jarek and his high fashion model mother, Kaja, had gotten on with spectacularly – to start a new family with their despised barely pubescent nanny. (That had gone for the whole family, though. No one had been impressed.)

Jarek’s skin had tanned so deeply and thoroughly, Charlie doubted it would ever fall back into its original pasty pallor and struck an interesting contrast between his white-blond hair and pale crystalline eyes. A network of scars ran across nearly every visible surface, including a grisly one Charlie had never wanted to hear the story behind that ran from his hairline, across the right side of his face and down to his jawline only interrupted by his eye. He had a collection of tiny tattoos that represented the countries he’d visited and always had a camera hanging around his neck no matter the circumstance. As it was, he lounged beside Charlie on Cronulla Beach in a pair of khaki shorts and a Jamaica t-shirt, snapping pictures of Rocco and Allegra playing in the water with a tight expression on his face.

No matter his feelings towards their father’s most recent family, Jarek couldn’t resist a good picture.

“Does it ever piss you off?” Jarek spoke suddenly, letting his camera fall into his lap.

Charlie raised his eyebrows and turned to his half-brother questioningly. He had the vaguest idea of what Jarek was dancing around but refused to make any guesses when it came to his brother’s poor attempts at dealing with their familial problems. If Jarek wanted to talk about this, he’d have to spell it out.

“That dad just flits from one family to the next like it’s no big deal. Like _we’re_ no big deal,” Jarek finished, his eyebrows raising as Dante, the eldest of Patricia and Samuel’s children, stumbled out of the water, surfboard in hand, and onto his ass on the shore while Allegra and Rocco snickered at their brother’s expense.

“He’s been with Patricia for almost fifteen years, Jarek. I don’t think he’s leaving this one. Not for a while, anyway.”

“She’s awful.”

“She _is_.” Charlie agreed with a slight laugh and a nod. “But _they’re_ not.”

Jarek sighed with exasperation. “You’re just like Poppy, you know that? She’s always trying to convince me to get to know them. ‘You might love them, Rek. They’re not they’re mother, you know.’”

“Poppy knows everything, obviously,” Charlie remarked wryly, though with sincerity.

Jarek huffed and ran a hand through his hair, narrowing his eyes towards the water and watching with a pinched expression as the waves beat tiredly against the shoreline. He shook his head and picked up his camera to snap a photo of Dante tossing his sister over his shoulder and sprinting into the waves, both of them howling with laughter while Rocco sat on his brother’s surfboard and watched with a grin.

Of all the Beck children, Jarek had gotten the worst end of the stick.

His mother, Kaja Brzezicki, had been Samuel’s first love and first wife. She was an international supermodel from Poland who’d taken the fashion world by storm in the 80s and 90s. Her career had taken a bit of a backseat to her marriage when she’d married Samuel after several years of him asking in 1990. Two years later, Jarek had come along and within twelve months, his parents had been filing for divorce. Kaja had blamed the industry for her marriage’s failings and packed up both Jarek and herself to move them back to Krakow. And Samuel, having been more focused on wooing Libby – which he’d done spectacularly as they’d married less than a year after his divorce was finalized – allowed himself to put that distance between Jarek and himself.

By the time anyone had thought of Jarek again, he’d been in double digits and had no time or desire to deal with the stresses that the entertainment industry presented.

Kaja and Libby, though, had gotten on like a house on fire, and Poppy and Charlie had clung onto their elder brother, cementing the tenuous bond between them before Jarek was of a mind to rebuff it. They loved each other with the easy acceptance of children who’d acknowledged and grasped onto what they’d been told to, but Jarek had been in his twenties when the first of Samuel and Patricia’s kids had been born and deep in the Amazon Rainforest. He’d made no effort to connect with anymore of Samuel Beck’s brood and didn’t seem to have any plans to.

Patricia hadn’t helped in that accord, either.

Her constant push to have Jarek and Kaja embraced into the family and accepting her own had ultimately ruined any desire either of the Poles might have been inclined to offer in that area. Besides, Kaja stood by Libby and therefore hated Patricia on principle.

“I don’t want to associate with any of them,” Jarek replied forthrightly. His blunt admission startled Charlie but didn’t altogether surprise him. “It was hard enough dealing with Libby and you and Poppy when I was a kid, but I could reconcile it wasn’t _your_ fault, that you were all trying to patch our family’s obvious holes. Patricia…well…there’s no love lost between her and anyone in this family except dad.

“She wants us all to come together and be a family, but that’s kind of hard to do when she was the one who destroyed us to begin with. We’d worked things out, smoothed over the edges, when she ripped everything apart so that she could be a movie star’s lover and spend her days drinking Margaritas by the pool and getting lip injections every three months. I can’t look at her, and I can’t look at dad starting yet another family he never sees because he’s too busy being _The_ Samuel Beck, you know?”

Charlie knew.

For all their father’s faults, his narcissism easily stood the thing that won him the least amount of favor in the family. No one had time for Samuel Beck feeling himself as God and king, especially not when Samuel Beck playing Samuel Beck led his children to see things no kid ever needed to know about their parent.

Adult or not, Charlie would never quite forget seeing his father getting head from his twenty-one year old costar two years ago when they’d been at the same after party with his wife only a twenty minute drive away.

Deciding retreat was the best solution, Charlie cleared his throat and shook his head, changing the subject, “How’s Lorraine?”

Jarek tossed him a bemused look but didn’t protest the subject change. “Pissy. She’s photographing the Elephanta Caves in India at the moment, and her assistant managed to download a virus onto her computer that wiped the files so she has to start from scratch, but she’s _supposed_ to be in Kumily at Thekkady, the wildlife sanctuary, twenty-two hours away in less than a day. All she does when she has service is sent me Snapchats of her being annoyed and text messages about how she’s firing Amira first chance she gets.”

Barking out a laugh, Charlie rested his chin on his knees as he pulled them up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Are you ever gonna propose to her?”

“Jesus fuck, have you been talking to my mother?” Jarek demanded with a huff. Charlie laughed but didn’t answer, and Jarek shook his head, wincing when Rocco tried to stand up on the surfboard and face planting in the shallow water on the shoreline. He’d already poised himself to get up when Dante appeared and tugged him to his feet while Allegra wrapped her arms around him and patting his side. Slowly, he sat down and scowled at Charlie whose lips turned up in a slight smile at the protective action. Jarek cleared his throat, “We’re not getting married. Neither of us want that for ourselves. We prefer being together across seven continents and half a dozen time zones, making love in random cottages in the countryside and open air villas in Bali.”

“And because _you_ don’t believe in marriage after dad’s…issues.”

“That too,” Jarek shrugged dismissively, a coy smile curling his lips as he turned to Charlie. “But what about you and your Irishman?”

“Ugh.”

“No, really, because that’s all Libby can talk about whenever mom or I call her and Fitz. How cute the two of you are. How soon it’ll be until the two of you tie the knot.” Jarek smirked.

Charlie groaned, “We’re…we’ve…I mean, it hasn’t been that long.”

“In what world is four years of pining not ‘that long’. You might not have _officially_ been dating, but I met the pair of you in your pre-orgasmic tension where you basically existence as a pair of domesticated husbands. You do realize that the only thing you _weren’t_ doing was having actual sex. You went on dates, grocery shopped together, did chores together. I’ve been dating Lorraine for years, and _we_ don’t do that.”

Charlie balked, “Do you two actually have an actual living space where you live or…?”

Jarek shoved him, and Charlie snickered. “Shut up you brat, we have two apartments. One in New York City and one in Paris.”

“Ooh,” Charlie purred, still laughing as Jarek slapped him.

“Seriously, though, I’m glad you got your shit together, especially after you and Salem broke up. That hit you so hard, I was worried you wouldn’t be able to connect like that again, that you’d guard your heart in a way you hadn’t before.”

Charlie’s light mood dropped, and he ran a hand through his hair as he turned his eyes towards where the three kids had started a water fight with Allegra perched on Dante’s back with her head thrown back as she cackled with laughter. “Harry, my new publicist, says that I need to tell him what happened. Why we broke up.”

“And you’re afraid to?” Charlie shrugged, and Jarek sighed, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and pulling him against his side. Humming softly, Charlie leaned against his half-brother with a slight smile on his face. “He won’t. Salem…will you be upset if I say he probably knows?”

“You think?” Charlie whispered.

“I think so,” Jarek confirmed.

They fell silent as their eyes followed their younger siblings, laughing and playing in the water without a care. Charlie couldn’t remember when he’d ever been that innocent, and he doubted Jarek did either. Life had a way of shitting on people like that, he supposed, ruining the blissful innocence of youth and turning it into something sour.

“I want to marry him, some day, Patrick,” he confessed. “I do, but I want…”

“You want to be out,” Jarek remarked lowly, running his hand through Charlie’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No?”

“No. Do you have an idea when you’ll be able to?”

Charlie shrugged, “Not really. The studio won’t let me, but I’m out of the contract when the show ends in March. I’ll probably have to wait until the show officially ends in May, but if I’m not around my appearance clause with my management before that then it’s a moot point anyway. That’s why I hired Harry, though. He worked Cris Emerson’s, the boybander’s, coming out.”

“Did he?” Jarek whistled, “How’d you meet him, then?”

“Salem’s friends with him.”

“Salem’s friends with everyone,” Jarek laughed. Charlie shrugged with a slight smile.

“I guess Sale introduced him to Patrick who brought him along to my contract negotiation with Luka.”

Jarek shook his head and muttered with a smirk, “That bastard got his revenge after all. Go Salem.”

“Huh?” Charlie inquired, confused.

His brother shook his head, “ _Nic_ ,” he said in Polish, blinking and clearing his throat. “Nothing, Chaz. Everything’ll be fine.”

“You think?”

“I know,” Jarek winked.

“Chaz,” Rocco huffed as he ran up to them, dripping, chest heaving. Allegra peered out from behind the twelve-year-old with a broad smile and her wide sapphire eyes staring at Jarek with interest. Charlie looked up at his little brother with an expectant expression. He beamed as Dante skulked up behind, clutching his surfboard. Rocco cleared his throat and tossed his light brown hair out of his eyes. “We’re…hungry.”

“No,” Charlie snapped, “you think I’m gonna feed you lot?” He scoffed, and Rocco paled and shrunk back against Allegra. Jarek rolled his eyes and hid a laugh behind his hand. Charlie shook his head and grinned, “Yeah, yeah, loves, we’ll grab food. There’s Italian, La Cucina, over there or the seafood place down the street.”

“Ice creamery,” Jarek coughed and fanned himself innocently. Allegra gasped, eyes wide and excited while Rocco bit his lip and nodded as Dante narrowed his eyes with pursed lips as he nodded vigorously.

“You’re such a dick,” he muttered.

“Swear jar!” Allegra cried out.

Charlie made a face but pointed a finger at her and nodded. She giggled, and he turned to Jarek. “You’re buying.”

“I guess,” he feigned a huff as he looked up at the three kids. “Don’t you need clothes on to get food?” They nodded and ran towards where they’d dropped their stuff, and Jarek turned to look at Charlie who watched him with a growing, sappy smile. “Don’t say it.”

“You like them.”

“That’s enough.”

Charlie laughed and hugged Jarek around the waist as they watched the three kids throw on their sandy clothes impatiently. He didn’t call Jarek out on his obvious fondness for the younger siblings he seemed determine not to associate with. He knew his brother well enough to know that wouldn’t help in the slightest. It didn’t matter, though. It seemed that his defenses were weakening anyway simply by being around them. So Charlie beamed and shook his head, climbing to his feet and calling for the kids, plucking Allegra up as the ten year old came of, tossing her over his shoulder, and reaching over to kick Jarek’s ankle as he started trekking in the direction of the creamery.

He glanced behind him with a smile as Rocco caught Jarek’s hand with a sheepish smile while Dante glanced between them skeptically. He bowed his head to hide a smile, feeling a warm glow of contentment at seeing his siblings patching the rift that their parents had created, but it was accompanied by a pang, colored by how much he missed Patrick.

The longer he was in Sydney, the more he wanted to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So these next couple chapters are basically the calm before the storm...ish. Except I'm meeting my family in Paris for my brother birthday so...I will be giving you the storm today and then abandoning you for a week because I love you all like that :D


	32. "Masterpiece" by Jessie J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie comes home (and gets profound about Star Wars)

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Never going to another wrap party with @Ginnifer_Cullen #iremembernothing

 

**Ginny the Vampire (@Ginnifer_Cullen)**

@CharlieBeck who started a shot competition? #thatwasyou

 

**Text message from Salem**

**Charlie:** she wants to come to the uk?

**Salem:** She wants to work for me. I guess this is what happens when you take over your stepmother’s electronics company.

**Charlie:** Lolz babes. So the fam luvs ur boy huh?

**Salem:** Dear God yes. More than me maybe. How was yours?

**Salem:** When r u headed to LA?

**Charlie:** Im at the airport now.

**Charlie:** Jarek met the musketeers. Loved em. Got in a huge fight with Trish over the way she raises them.

**Salem:** No shit?

**Charlie:** No shit. Its a blessing dad was filming.

**Salem:** Would he have sided with Trish?

**Charlie:** Idk. Probs. If he wanted to get laid.

**Salem:** Like Sam doesn’t get laid.

**Charlie:** Ew fuck can we not?!

 

**realestpatrickgallagher**

Patrick was spotted with Willamina Leddy again…

#I am liking this #yes get it boy #that makes me happy

**formybaekillian**

Here we go

#i believe nothing #he’s stunting #he’s stunting

**realestpatrickgallagher**

Ffs do not make this about chatrick. Thanks.

**formybaekillian**

I’m not? I’m not a Chatrick shipper. I’m a person with a brain.

**bowtoconsortkillian**

It was just announced she’s walking in the Miami Mercedes-Benz fashion week in mid-July

**formybaekillian**

Guess who just got a huge amount of promo?

**thecouplewhogroceryshop**

Guess who’s living in Charlie Beck’s house?

**21greatnoble**

Guess who’s too busy screwing Charlie to date a model?

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Yes I am marathoning the Star Trek movies

 

**Sinclair Tatu (@SinTatu)**

@StPatty_ yes you are a geek.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@SinTatu who went to a Star Wars Convention in cosplay? Not me.

**Sinclair Tatu (@SinTatu)**

@CharlieBeck I’m being bullied

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ @SinTatu don’t even worry @Salem_Daiki has pics of him cosplaying as the Winter Soldier #realtalk

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ is it time to break out those pics? I’m good for that.

* * *

“This is the most contrived love story since Tim Burton’s  _Dark Shadows_ or  _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ ,” Tinzy stated in outrage from where he’d curled up on the end of the L-shaped sofa with his feet thrown haphazardly in Sinclair’s lap and his shocking blond hair sticking up in each and every direction like he’d run his fingers through it all day heedless of the gel in it.

With one hand and a bemused expression on his face, Sinclair reached out to settle the bowl of buttered popcorn covered in a sickening layer of garlic popcorn salt being jostled on Tinzy’s lap in his outright and passionate criticisms of the _Star Wars_ prequel trilogy. Brushing his dark hair out of his eyes, Sin popped a couple pieces of popcorn into his mouth, grimaced at the taste, and shuddered as he leaned back. Tinzy flipped him off without tearing his eyes away from Anakin Skywalker’s brilliant overkill of slaughtering an entire tribe of people over his mother’s death.

Willamina rolled her eyes from where she’d curled up on the floor beneath some of Charlie’s favorite quilts that Salem’s grandmother, Katarina, sent him every year for his birthday (along with a bottle of Russian vodka and some tea) without fail. Alongside Willamina, looking only mildly interested in the Sci-Fi fest playing out on screen, sat golden girl and pop sensation since her early teen years but without the aid and support of Disney Channel, Elena Valence. Inviting America’s sweetheart into his and Charlie’s personal space when he knew next to nothing about the woman had been a caveat he’d extended to Willamina to try and offset the discomfort that they both felt upon being together close quarters since their stunting had begun.

He liked her well enough but publicly pretending to be sexually interested and romantically invested wore and tore on his emotions.

Their initial meeting at Willamina’s favorite hangout, Bootsy Bellows, had been lighthearted and fun. They’d danced, raunchy but entirely platonic, and drank, but that had been as far as Patrick had been intending to take things, even after he’d started running into her regularly.

The Canadian model had high hopes to become something more. She had confided once over a couple too many Jaeger bombs about her dreams to venture into every aspect of the industry like Tyra Banks or, more recently, Cara Delevigne. Patrick figured that Willamina was pretty enough in the way most models were: long, lean, lithe with perfect golden skin, brown eyes, and strawberry blonde hair that she’d cut in a sleek but curly bob that accentuated her killer bone structure.

What she lacked was the charisma to get foot into the industry, though thanks to her lucrative string of PR stunts ranging from Cris Emerson before he’d come out and married Irial earlier in the year to Patrick himself, she certainly had the promotional profile for making it.

The casting director for _Arkham Unveiled_ had described her as ‘singularly unimpressive and uninteresting in every way except in thousand dollar, gem-encrusted couture gowns.’

Patrick didn’t disagree.

Willamina lacked charisma and stage presence, but her close friend, Elena Valence, held all of it in spades.

America’s darling since her teen years when she’d appeared as a young popstar out of Nashville by way of New Orleans, Elena Valence looked like a starlet everywhere, even simply walking down the street. With café au lait skin, hazel eyes, and dark hair that fell just passed her shoulders in fat ringlets that somehow managed to look a fascinating kind of exotically beautiful instead of childlike, no one could deny Elena had a natural, warm, flawless beauty in addition to her personable, welcoming personality that endeared even paparazzi to her. As far as Patrick knew, her mother was a mulatto Creole woman from the French Quarter of New Orleans who worked as police officer and her father was a Spanish Creole building contractor who lived in one of the gorgeous old Esplanade Avenue houses.

Patrick hadn’t been sure about her long before Willamina had requested to bring her to their Sci-Fi movie marathon, and his negative opinion had only been cemented through their viewings of the new _Star Trek_ franchise when she’d commented on JJ Abram’s inability to positively convey female characters. Tinzy had balked, and Sinclair had tossed some popcorn back into his mouth, grimacing through the disgust and chasing down the taste with some of Patrick’s whiskey.

“ _I_ think it’s romantic,” Elena chimed in as she sipped her Perrier water delicately.

Tinzy sneered at her, “Romantic?”

“Romantic,” she returned icily. “What’s not romantic about him willing to defy the Jedi Order because of his love for her?”

“His _lust_ ,” Patrick felt compelled to point out.

Willamina tossed him an exasperated look at his getting involved, but he shrugged him off. _Star Wars_ , the sucky prequel series or not, was sacred, and he wouldn’t tolerate hearing any kind of bullshit one way or the other.

“What’s romantic about being in lust with the woman who mothered you in your childhood is like twice your age and was completely uninterested in you until you practically stockholmed her into it?” Sinclair added.

“And he’s a loose canon, but fine whatever, I guess, she’s totally into that even though he _massacred an entire species_ because his mother died in their camp,” Tinzy exclaimed in frustration.

“Okay,” Willamina laughed uncomfortably, “don’t you think you need to chill?”

Tinzy, Sinclair, and Patrick all stared at her in disbelief before Patrick smiled thinly and continued the conversation by saying, “Also, Padme _is the law_. She’s all about rules and order up until this point, but some horny teenager she met once on a desert planet that she mothered henned has her wetting her pussy with enough vehemence to have her marry him despite all the rules that say that’s a terrible idea.”

Willamina scowled at him while Elena shook her head at him.

From behind a welcome but surprising voice continued by saying, “Also, Anakin’s a loose canon who throws an impressive number of hissy fits, and yet, mature, former queen turned Senator Amidala is totally down with that. I never bought it. I might have bought her and Obi Wan hooking up, but the storytelling in the prequels are so weak it’s unbelievable.”

Everyone whirled around, and Patrick could feel his eyes fill with tears as he froze and stared at his boyfriend’s figure in the doorway of the living room with his bag on the floor at his feet and an ‘Accio Coffee’ mug in his hands. He took a sip with a growing smile as his eyes focused on Patrick with a soft, loving look that had Patrick growing warm inside and negating how much he _loathed_ surprises.

Because _Charlie was home_.

And no matter how often they texted, or how much they spammed each other with Snapchats, or the amount of times they Skyped, nothing could compare to the feeling having Charlie in the same room with his eyes on Patrick.

His heart felt like it could burst, and, frankly, his dick was well on the way.

“Charlie Beck,” Willamina said from behind, breaking the heavy eye contact between Patrick and Charlie as the latter’s gaze went to the model. “Should you _really_ be encouraging bad behavior?”

“I’m sorry, Willa,” Charlie said without the slightest hint of remorse, “but a _Star Wars_ geek has to do what a _Star Wars_ geek has to do. Sometimes that means enlightening the plebs.” He came around the sofa to greet everyone, his fingers reaching out to brush the skin of Patrick’s neck as he came around. Patrick shivered and shifted to accommodate his half hard cock.

Jesus fuck, Charlie damned _presence_ was a fucking hair-trigger.

Patrick could swear he didn’t used to be this bad.

Elena stared up at Charlie with awe bordering on a coquettish glance, her lips curving into a coy smile as she stared up at him from beneath her eyelashes in a blatant display that set Patrick’s teeth on edge. Tinzy raised his eyebrows and nudged Sinclair’s thigh with his toe as Sin’s gaze slowly and reluctantly went to Patrick who glared at her furiously. She didn’t notice, too busy getting to her feet and tossing her insultingly perfect hair over her shoulder with a flirty smile.

The only sign Charlie noticed her attempts at seduction was the quick glance he shot towards Patrick before his smile turned calculating. He took Elena’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, a smirk darting across his lips as she turned red. Willamina watched Charlie with poorly concealed fury, and Sinclair reached over to kick her lightly, shaking his head. With a huff of discontent, she turned her attention back to the movie still playing across the screen.

“I’m Charlie Beck.”

“Elena. Valence. I sing.” Her face went crimson as she realized what she’d said.

Patrick snorted derisively, and Tinzy gave him a look that ordered him to shut up as Elena flushed with embarrassment. He couldn’t find it in his heart to feel bad. In theory, he realized she had no idea that him and Charlie were dating, but regardless, everything about this exchange rankled him.

“I know,” Charlie winked, setting the woman at ease. Patrick rolled his eyes, and Charlie’s eyes went to him, wordlessly communicating that he needed to relax before darting back to Elena. “Lovely to meet you, Elena. I’m a big fan of your music. Patty complains about me playing it in the car or when we’re cleaning _constantly_. Very catchy, though, and passionate. I can’t help it.”

Elena seemed near tears as she put a hand to her chest, blinking furiously and nodding. “That’s so amazing. Thank you. I’ve been a huge fan of your work since I was a kid.”

“That’s so sweet of you to say. No need to lie, though, love. I was a little shithead.”

“No!” Elena giggled.

Patrick gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes on her. Charlie shrugged weakly before his eyes darted to Tinzy and Sinclair. The latter picked up on his hint quickest, getting fluidly to his feet and sidling up beside Elena.

“Mind if I cut in, Elena?” Sinclair asked smoothly, meeting Patrick’s eyes poignantly. Elena exhaled an ‘oh’ of surprise and took a step back as Sinclair swept Charlie into a hug as Tinzy watched them with bemusement and Elena sat down with a put-out expression.

_Fucking good._

When Sinclair had released him, Charlie tapped his hip in thanks and moved to high-five Tinzy in greeting. The pair of them on considerably more familiar terms than Charlie and Sinclair who’d met only a handful of times at parties. Tinzy and Charlie had worked together on a number of Charlie’s movie projects including one of Tinzy’s first, which he’d co-written with an industry favorite. They didn’t stay in regular contact – Charlie had a tendency _not_ to with anyone who wasn’t family, Patrick, or Salem – but they did maintain witty repertoire and enjoyment of each other’s company.

“How’s filming been, then?” Charlie inquired as he popped some popcorn into his mouth before choking. Sinclair laughed as he settled himself back on the sofa, and Tinzy rolled his eyes as Charlie peered down at him, ignoring Elena’s heated looks still being sent his way albeit more discreetly. Patrick gritted his teeth. “Why the fuck did you put cyanide on your popcorn. We’re not all poison-eaters.”

“ _You_ weren’t supposed to be here,” Tinzy pointed out. “And filming is…filming. Temperamental actors. Needy directors. Prying studio execs. But we got to blow shit up yesterday, so that’s always fun.”

Charlie’s eyes darted to Patrick, questioningly, and Patrick laughed, tension not easing in the slightest as he nodded. “ _I_ did.”

“Don’t try this at home kids,” Charlie deadpanned.

“Fun-sucker,” Patrick retorted.

Charlie’s eyes snapped to Patrick, shining with lust and desire that went straight to Patrick’s half-hard cock. He just needed to remember _we have guests._ Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he _wouldn’t_ drag Charlie to the kitchen to impale him on his cock with their sort-of friends within hearing distance. Maybe. It was a fight Patrick was beginning to think he’d lose.

Patrick cleared his throat and shook his head. “You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he pouted.

Sinclair rolled his eyes, and Charlie laughed as he came towards Patrick, settling onto the sofa in the curve of Patrick’s body, perched on the edge of the sofa cushion and leaning back to feel Patrick’s hardening length press against his back. Patrick inhaled sharply, eyes rolling back at the exquisite pressure on his cock, and Charlie smirked smugly.

“I have to be in London in three days,” Charlie confessed with a shrug.

“For what?” Patrick demanded in a breathy huff

“A meeting with Harry and Xavier. First table read of the season premiere script. I’m helping Israel write the season finale so I have to be there for _that_. And Cliff – Clifford Bishop, my agent – wants to talk to me in person about working in the adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s _Sandman_.”

“Fuck no!” Tinzy exclaimed from the other side of the room. “How did I not know about this? Why did no one ask me to write for this? I’m very upset right now.”

Sinclair patted his leg with an air of bemusement, and Tinzy picked up on it, sticking his tongue out before settling back into the cushions.

“Ugh,” Patrick muttered, “stop being so successful and busy.”

“Okay, Mr. I’m-playing-the-Joker-in-this-new-Batman-adaptation.” Charlie sniggered, and Patrick reached over to tug on his hair sharply. His boyfriend pulled in a stuttered breath, closing his eyes pointedly, and Patrick smirked triumphantly as Charlie bit his lip and shook his head, eyes snapping open and brimming with barely leashed lust as he mumbled, “You’re literally Satan, you know that?”

Patrick hummed and smiled, leaning up to whisper in Charlie’s ear with one arm thrown around his shoulders: “Elena’s still got her eyes on you.”

And she did.

It was pissing Patrick off, especially since Xavier had had Harry contact Pete to tell Patrick not to tell anyone outside their families and people who already know about their relationship. Most people in the industry either knew or suspected that they had something going on, even people who didn’t know their sexual orientation. Elena Valence, it seemed, hadn’t gotten the memo.

Charlie groaned and scowled, “No thank you. I did enough fake dating this summer. I deserve time off.”

“Me too,” Patrick concurred vehemently.

Humming thoughtfully, Charlie peered over at Patrick, pressing his fingers into Patrick’s hip discreetly until Patrick rolled his hips in automatic response to the touch. He buried his face in Charlie’s neck to stifle a moan at the feeling, and Charlie patted his hip with feigned sympathy as he whispered, “How long is this _Star Wars_ marathon going to last? Because if you’re running through the original trilogy _and_ JJ Abrams amazing reboot, I might actually kill you no matter how much I appreciate watching Finn and Poe’s epic bromance or Kylo Ren being a psychotic badass or feeling the awkwardness of Luke and Leia’s ‘oh shit siblings’ kiss turn into ‘no way Han’s super attractive.’ Understand, Trick?”

“Fuck. Yes. I hear you.” Patrick grunted through his teeth, as Charlie’s hands deftly maneuvered beneath the quilt to palm Patrick’s hard-on. “For fuck’s sake, Sunshine.”

“Right now, I need your cock in my ass more than you need to be a good host or whatever, because it’s been _months_ , Pattycake, and a dildo wasn’t going to pound me nearly as well as you do, yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ll kick everyone out when this movie ends, Chazza. Please.”

“No shit,” Charlie intoned in a way that said he knew that his lover would give him exactly what he wanted.

And, yes, Patrick absolutely would, especially if it ended with his prick buried deeply in his boyfriend’s tight hole. Patrick knew where his priorities were.


	33. "All of the Stars" by Ed Sheeran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I bet you didn't see this coming

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Every time I come back to London it’s raining.

 

To: kimuramichi@gmail.co.jp

From: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Kaede and Ridley

O-fucking-kay,

Since I finally got my shit together and started officially dating the love of my life, and you officially got your shit together and started dating the love of your life, we can officially get our collective shit together and let our characters date the loves of their lives.

Kaede and Ridley are a go, I repeat Kaede and Ridley are a go.

(Mostly because your brother keeps sending me sad, depressing emails about it, tbh)

Patty

 

**RT by @StPatty_ @Salem_Daiki**

**Kimura Michi (@Kimura_Michi)**

D-day is finally happening. It’s a go ;)

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@CharlieBeck is in here going ‘and maybe it should all have just been a dream’ #fuckoff #fangirlswouldmurderus

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolli)**

@notthecountry @CharlieBeck no need to wait for fangirls. I would kill him

 

**Child found wandering Argos in Ipswich**

An Argos employee in Ipswich found a three-year-old boy wandering the aisles of the store at closing time, his parents nowhere in sight. “I remember seeing him in the morning,” another employee admitted, “but he didn’t seem lost so I figured his mother was around and he’d just wandered.” At the end of the day, however, in an empty shop, the boy remained alone as well as silent. “He didn’t speak, not anything, not even his name,” Mira Feehan, who found the boy, explained. The young boy has since been taken to authorities. The Ipswich police commented, “We’ve contacted Child Protective Services and are looking into finding his family as we speak.” The search has yet to yield results beyond a grainy photo of a woman who might likely be the boy’s mother caught on the store’s security footage.

 

**Text message from Peter Weinbrook**

**Peter Weinbrook:** I’ll admit I am not equipped to handle this

**Harry:** Do I even want to know what ‘this’ is?

**Peter Weinbrook:** I’ve spoken to Pat’s agent, Oliver Cole

**Peter Weinbrook:** We’re prepared to hire you on a consulting basis to handle this

**Harry:** Send the contract to Alexander Sullivan, my solicitor

**Harry:** I’ll call you so we can discuss the details

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

My dog might have lost her damned mind (I blame @notthecountry completely) #iseeyoufam

* * *

Somewhere in the house, The Imperial March played out incessantly.

That was his phone.

For fuck’s sake.

Groaning and running a hand over his face, Charlie sat up in the bed, stroking his hand through Snow’s downy soft fur when she cracked her eyes open lazily to stare at him in betrayal and annoyance. Padding across the room, Charlie flicked on the hallway light and followed the sounds of Darth Vader’s theme song down the stair and through the hall into the living room where it stopped briefly before restarting again.

_This had better be fucking serious_.

With fumbling hands, Charlie picked up his screaming mobile phone and frowned when the call cut off again, scrolling through the display at the outrageous number of missed calls he had from Harry. He barely had a moment to ponder through what could possibly be the problem before there came a pounding at the door mere seconds preceding his phone’s wailing starting up again.

Throwing back his head and sighing, Charlie thumbed the button of the phone to take the call and rushed to the door, narrowly missing Snow as she trotted down the stairs to sit in the entranceway to the kitchen with a huff, her narrowed eyes focused on the door.

“Yeah?” Charlie answered the call as he yanked open the door, frowning when he came face to face with a grim Aaron, his young daughter, Sylvia, in a pair of Ironman pajamas and her curls pulled back into braids, and his girlfriend and baby mama, Hannah, wringing her hands with a worried expression. Snow yipped excitedly, and Sylvia’s eyes widened. Charlie stepped out of the way to let her run inside and embraced the dog as her parents stepped in after her.

Hannah threw her arms around Charlie to give him a comforting hug that he didn’t quite understand. “God, Chaz, everything’s going to be fine,” she said, cupping his face fondly and pecking his cheek.

“Uh, thanks?”

“Charlie,” Harry said urgently into the phone.

“One sec, Harry. Aaron just got here.” Charlie placed the phone down against his shoulder and frowned at Aaron, confused, “Aaron, what are you doing here at like eleven at night with your whole family?”

“Taking you the airport,” Aaron replied shortly.

“Why am I going to the airport?” Charlie asked haltingly, wondering if his lingering daze from sleep was what seemed to be causing to world to go absolutely crazy before his eyes. Aaron smiled wanly and grabbed Charlie wrist and pulled it up to press the phone back against his ear. Frowning at Aaron, Charlie inquired, puzzled, “Harry, what’s going on?”

“You need to get to Ipswich. I called Sadie, and she booked you a flight out that leaves in less than two hours.”

“Why…wouldn’t a train be faster?”

“No, I checked,” Harry returned. Charlie frowned at Aaron who shrugged and shook his head to express his own either inability or lack of desire to clarify what the fuck was going on.

Charlie sighed and nodded, “Am I going to need a bag?”

“Maybe. Bring one anyway.” Harry instructed.

“Alright, I’ll get moving.”

“Good,” Harry said, sounding distracted. “And Chaz? Bring Patrick’s hair brush.”

“Why?”

“I need it.”

Harry hung up without another word, and Charlie ran a hand through his hair and looked at Aaron who seemed a little grim and a lot uneasy. “Give me twenty minutes?”

Aaron nodded, “Of course, Chaz. Sylvia and Hannah said they’d take care of Snow while you’re out.”

“Thank you so much. They’re welcome to stay here since it’s already so late, and you’ll be…driving me to the airport, I guess.” Charlie blinked in confusion and shook his head as he made his way to the stairs.

“Appreciate that,” Aaron said softly, his tone infused with sympathy that Charlie absolutely did not understand. Honestly, someone had better clue him in soon before flipped out.

“It’s no problem. Patty and I love having you all here. You’re family,” Charlie insisted, giving him a smile before slipping upstairs. 

* * *

 

By the time Charlie touched down in Ipswich after getting no sleep at all on the plane, the night had gotten impossibly blacker as midnight gave way to half past one. He shouldered his carry on bag and ran a hand over his face tiredly as he made his way through the small airport towards the passenger pick-up where Harry had promised he’d sent someone to pick him up and take him to the police station.

_The police station_.

Harry hadn’t returned his query about why the fuck he was trekking to the Ipswich police station before dawn had even started to sprout on the horizon. Ipswich where Charlie had absolutely never been to before let alone long enough to commit a crime. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, and Aaron had stopped answering his text messages since Charlie had sent him one approximately two seconds after Harry’s slip-up demanding to know just why the hell he was headed for a police station in a city northeast of London where he’d never been before.

_What the actual fuck is going on here?_

A man dressed in a wrinkled suit spotted Charlie and took a step towards him, and Charlie shook his hand only half-listening as the man introduced himself by handing Charlie a coffee. And for all Charlie disliked coffee, if he didn’t get caffeine in him ASAP he’d probably end up passing out in the backseat of the car. As it was, he dozed against the window as they drove through the town with the radio playing quiet jazz music, not fully waking until they’d parked in the lot in front of the building.

Blinking blearily, Charlie adjusted the beanie he’d pulled on over his sleep-mussed hair and frowned up at the glass building. He startled as the door was yanked open, and Rosie Ireland peered down at him with her hair twisted up in a hastily did ponytail and a pair of baggy sweatpants hanging from her hips. She looked as exhausted and sloppily put together as him who’d forgone his usual brand of posh, fashionable attire to don a pair of Patrick’s Man U sweatpants and a hooded, long-sleeved black t-shirt.

He’d been exhausted enough to pull on a pair of Uggs… _in public_.

Rosie quirked an eyebrow at him before grabbing the bag and tossing it over her shoulder and nodded at Charlie to get out. “Thanks for picking up the spare, Drew.”

“No problem, Rosemary,” Drew responded teasingly, laughing when Rosie glared at him.

Charlie climbed out of the car and wiped the sleep from his eyes as he glanced at Rosie. “You’re involved with this?”

Rosie sighed and shrugged, “Harry wanted someone intimidating to come along.”

“Has he met himself?” He asked, opening the door for Rosie.

Laughing, Rosie stepped inside with a bright smile, “He’s oblivious.”

Inside the station seemed quiet enough save for the usual brand of drunks yelling at the constable behind the desk and laughing uproariously at their jumbled words while she rolled her eyes at them and shook her head. Rosie made a beeline for her with Charlie following close behind, and the woman spotted her and nodded towards the back hallway. Taking ahold of his arm as an officer walked in what looked an awful lot like a prostitute with a sour expression on her heavily made up face, Rosie nodded gratefully at the officer and tugged Charlie into the hallway.

She shoved him into an elevator, and he went, sleepy and pliant under her hands. They both ignored the raised eyebrows from the constables in the lift with them. Charlie noted but dismissed the man in the back whose eyebrows rose with recognition as he slapped the arm of his partner beside him and indicated towards Charlie, leaning over to whisper quietly to him. Rosie, though, spotted him and glared at him until he shrunk back and pressed his lips together in silence. She turned around and smirked, prodding Charlie off the lift as the doors opened to the second floor.

Rosie seemed to know the layout to the Ipswich police station entirely too well so Charlie followed her meekly.

He spotted Harry first, the only person mildly prepared for whatever this was other than the officers milling around the station, in his trousers and a Burberry cable knit jumper, worrying his lip between his teeth as he typed on his phone and occasionally shooting an inscrutable look at the woman in a cheap suit, pointy-toed heels, and dark hair pulled back in a severe bun. The woman’s eyes flickered up to meet Charlie’s, and she straightened, adjusting the glass on the bridge of her nose.

Catching the movement, Harry pushed off the wall and tucked his mobile phone in his back pocket. He opened his mouth to speak when the woman stepped in front of him and cut him off.

“You’re Charlie Beck?”

Charlie narrowed his eyes on her thoughtfully, reeling back and into Rosie’s side. Harry glared at the woman behind her back, huffing and rolling his eyes as he stepped around her to take the bag from Rosie and toss it into an office chair.

“Um…yeah?”

“I’m Lillian Pirry from Child Protective Services.”

Pausing, his eyes narrowed into slits as he crossed his arms over his chest. _Why the fuck does Child Protective Services need to talk to me? Me and what child?_

Lillian opened her mouth to continued when Harry nudged her out of the way with a spectacularly dirty look as he turned back to Charlie with a weary smile.

“Kelsie Klein, have you ever heard that name, Charlie?”

“No, should I have?” Charlie inquired in confusion.

Harry and Rosie shared a significant look, and Lillian cleared her throat primly, tugging the bottom of her blazer. “Well,” she sniffed, “I really think I – ”

“ _I_ don’t,” Harry snapped curtly, dismissing the woman who glowered at him furiously. He turned back to Charlie who frowned openly at him, confused and with a growing sense of dread. Harry cleared his throat, “You read the paper about the kid who got abandoned at an Argos in Ipswich?”

“Yes, what does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing,” Harry admitted. “You bring what I asked you for?”

“Yeah, it’s on the top of the bag.” Harry looked to Rosie who crossed over towards the bag, unzipping it and taking the brush out. She pulled a Ziploc bag from her pocket and slipped a hair inside, locking it tight and tossing the brush back in. It took longer than usual for Charlie to catch on, but when he noticed the look of clarity and dawning shock on Charlie’s face, Harry pulled out his phone and showed Charlie a screenshot.

A picture of a younger, scruffier Patrick Gallagher with his arm thrown over a half-dressed slip of girl in jean cut-off short shorts and a crop top with her dyed, pale pink hair falling from her bun and down her neck. She looked up at him with a wide, blissful smile and her arm around his waist attached to a Tweet.

Charlie frowned and handed the mobile phone back to Harry. “Patrick would have told me.”

“I don’t think he knows,” Harry admitted. “The police identified the kid’s mother off of one of Argo’s cameras as this girl, Kelsie Klein. They haven’t been able to locate her yet, but they managed to pull his birth certificate. It has Patrick’s name on it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he’s actually the father, but it presents a significant problem as it is and means it needs to be looked into.”

“And how old is he?” Charlie shifted and frowned, trying hard to process this information so early in the morning.

“He turned three in February,” Lillian remarked, shooting Harry a narrowed eyed look. “Where’s the father, then?”

Charlie glanced at her and raised his eyebrows before taking Harry’s direct approach to the situation and ignoring the woman entirely to focus on Harry. His publicist nodded, “We’re speculating from Kelsie’s Twitter activity and his age that he was conceived sometime during when both of them were at Vans Warped Tour in 2015.”

He grimaced and nodded, “Right. Yeah. Lovely.”

Rosie smiled sympathetically at him, and Charlie shook his head and dismissed the sympathy as he focused on Harry. “Can I see him? I want to see him?”

Harry nodded absently, and Lillian looked between them, gaping as she shook her head. “He’s not _your_ son. He’s not biologically related to you in any way. I can’t allow you to…”

“We’re seriously sitting here harping on about biological relations when this child’s mother dropped him off at a grocery store to be either kidnapped by a paedophile or picked up by the police. In what world am I a worse choice than the woman who abandoned him? At least I fucking showed up,” Charlie snapped.

“And where’s his father?”

“Working,” he returned evenly.

Scoffing and crooking an eyebrow with a pointed sneer, Lillian returned mockingly, “Working. And he can’t take ten minutes off of work to deal with his child?”

“His _alleged_ child,” Harry corrected.

Lillian tossed him a sarcastic look, and Charlie gave her a bleak smile. “He’s working in _Los Angeles_ , and until I know for certain that this kid isn’t some groupie he banged once four years ago and attached his name to out of some misguided delusion of grandeur, I refuse to get him involved. Any other questions, Lillian? I want to see my boyfriend’s alleged spawn.”

She huffed, and Rosie wandered over from where she’d gone to talk to one of the constables to wave at Harry and incline her head. Lillian cursed, following as Harry guided him down a hallway and outside a large one-way mirror. Pausing, he turned and inclined his head towards the mirror.

Haltingly and ignoring Lillian’s disgruntled grumbles, Charlie stepped up to window with trepidation and increasing anxiety.

Inside the room, curled tightly in a ball in the corner was a tiny boy with a mop of shaggy black hair that fell to his jaw in tangled, matted waves. In only a pair of ripped, dirty gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt almost entirely turned brown with grim, the kid seemed even smaller than his three years suggested with bruises up and down his thin, bony arm. A woman squatted by the door, watching him with a stricken expression and a bowl of soup in her hand and waiting for a sign. She rose and took a step towards him and then another, and Charlie watched with growing horror as the kid flinched and whimpered with every step she took towards him. He shrunk into himself, burying his face against his knees.

The woman stopped in front of him and looked over at the window worriedly. She placed the soup down on the ground across from him, backing away carefully and sneaking out through the door. Charlie didn’t look away as she approached Lillian from behind, murmuring in concern about how he still hadn’t eaten.

“The bruises?” Charlie asked no one in particular.

Lillian stepped up beside him, her hands crossed over her waist. “He’s severely malnourished and suspected abuse, most likely from Ms. Klein’s boyfriend.” Charlie turned to look at her seriously, and Lillian cleared her throat delicately. “He was picked up by the police when they identified Kelsie Klein. The man doesn’t know where she is or care one whit about the boy.”

“Been arrested about a dozen times for everything from possession, assault, theft, battery, and domestic abuse,” Rosie informed Charlie as she rested her forearm on his shoulder and leaned into him.

“He won’t eat?” Charlie asked offhandedly, watching as the kid peered between his knees at the soup bowl, and Charlie could see the indecision, the desire, the hunger in every line of the kid’s rail thin body. Skeletal fingers reached out to dance over the bowl with hesitant need before wide, frightened hazel eyes peered up with sheer, unadulterated terror at the one-way mirror, kicking the soup bowl away from him and pressing more firmly back against the wall.

Charlie reeled back, recognizing that face and turning to Harry.

“When can I take him home?”

“You _can’t_. Only his biological parent can take custody of him,” Lillian snapped.

“One of his biological parents abandoned, neglected, and abused him. The other one is in Los Angeles for another two weeks, doesn’t know he exists, and lives with me regardless.”

“I can’t let him go with you,” Lillian insisted.

Charlie waved a hand dismissively and turned to Harry. “I’ve seen Patrick’s baby pictures. That’s his kid.”

Harry pressed his lips together and nodded like he’d figured this, turning to Rosie. “Get that to Ralph and tell him it’s a rush job. I’ll pay for it.”

“Sure thing, Harold,” Rosie remarked, tossing her hair over her shoulder and strutting off down the hall with one last disdainful look thrown Lillian’s way. Harry watched her go, pulling his mobile phone from his pocket and thumbing in a number something deftly.

“What are my options, not in terms of press, in terms of bringing my boyfriend’s surprise son home?” Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to watch a three year old sit deathly still like he was afraid to be noticed by the adults in the next room over.

Harry started to reply when Lillian slammed her palm flat against the window. The little boy jumped, whined, and curled even tighter into himself. Charlie turned and shot her a venomous look, but Lillian persisted.

“It’s the _law_. I cannot allow someone who is in no way related the boy to simply take him.”

Charlie whirled on her with a sneer. “Let me make things abundantly clear, Ms. Lillian Pirry. There’s a three year old boy behind one way glass in a police station who’s malnourished but refuses to eat, cringes and flinches when people breath too close to him, and is covered in bruises – old and new. He’s probably too scared to sleep. Who knows if he’ll drink? There is nothing you can provide him here that I can’t provide better. If you think that some red tape is going to keep me from being home my boyfriend’s traumatized son from a police station two hours outside of where we both live behind an armored door and four concrete walls, you’re out of your mind.”

Lillian’s face turned red, and Harry squeezed Charlie’s arm. “I’ve already called Sully about it.”

“No,” Lillian snapped furiously.

“Yes,” Charlie whirled on her. “Here’s how this is going to work. Right now, you have a choice between finding a way to get me temporary custody of that little boy until my boyfriend gets back here, to get this taken care of with Alexander Sullivan and my publicist, or I get my solicitor involved. You don’t want me to call the highly paid men whose only job will be to make yours difficult, because a woman who got knocked up at – what? – eighteen, worked minimum wage, lived with a criminal who’d been arrested multiple times for domestic abuse, which meant that she had to have gotten a visit from social services, probably multiple times. Someone saw the state of that child, even if there were no bruises, _I_ don’t need a _doctor_ to tell me he’s severely underweight, and you’re telling me _no one reported it_? If I got your files subpoenaed, how many times would they have been there in last three years? How many people would have seen him and left him there? I can do this dirty, and if you think my career will take precedence, I’d like to point out that you don’t know me at all and also my solicitor will slap you with a gag order that’ll have you tied in bureaucratic knots until you quit out of sheer exasperation. So, how do _you_ want to proceed, because my solicitor will take my call day or night, anytime. Your move, love.”

Inhaling deeply, her eyes flicked from Charlie to a stony-face Harry and back again. Swallowing nervously and wringing her hands together, Lillian took a breath and nodded once. “I’ll make a couple phone calls.”

“I’ll bet you will,” Harry purred lightly, and they stood to the side and watched her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...usually when I write shit happens that comes out of total left field and I'm like 'well shit, okay.' This is not one of those times. This has been the plan for this story from the beginning. I did a bunch of research about child custody laws in the UK for these next few chapters, but honestly, it's all fairly-fictionalized because I couldn't find enough to be entirely certain. So, some of what happens might not be entirely legal. I figured, it's not the end of the world. I will see you all next week. Happy late Valentine's Day!!!!


	34. "Wonderland" by Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has issues and sisters have excellent points

**Text message from Patrick**

**Patrick:** Ok so Margot pulled a prank on our director today that delayed filming for fucking HOURS

**Patrick:** Im gonna kill her

**Patrick:** It’s super fucking late and WERE STILL HERE

**Patrick:** Chaz!

**Patrick:** Chhhhhaaaaazzzzzzaaaaaa where r u?????

**Patrick:** Why is Sylvia Instagramming pics with my baby girl????

**Patrick:** Chazzzza Im not worried.

**Patrick:** Im lying. Im worried. I need you to txt me Chaz. Now.

**Patrick:** Fucking hell Chaz, I’ll fucking call Salem.

**Charlie:** Im a little busy juggling some serious shit. I need a min patty. Txt u when I can

 

**Text message to Poppy**

**Charlie:** I need you to get me some shit

**Poppy:** Go.

**Charlie:** You might need 2 ask mum for help

**Poppy:** Why?

**Charlie:** I need clothes, a bed, bedding, toys, and whatever else a 3yr old needs

**Poppy:** Where the fuck did you get a 3yr old?

**Charlie:** My bfs wayward semen

**Poppy:** Fuck outta here

**Charlie:** Dont tell mum. Get me what I need pls

 

To: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Cc: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: alexandersullivan@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: The kid

Harold,

I’ve already draft up gag orders for everyone involved, and I’m working on the ones for the press for when they inevitably get wind of this. Social services worked with me and managed to get a temporary guardianship drawn up so that you can take Patrick’s son home.

Also, the DNA results got sent to me from Ralph’s lab and confirmed it’s Patrick’s son. Rosie went ahead and sent the information to Patrick’s manager, and we’ll get the paperwork drawn up for his custody. I have Brandon tracking down Keslie Klein as we speak, but it seems likely that she left the country. Obviously that won’t stop us from getting a hold of her the way it’ll stop the police, but understand that it’ll probably get messy.

You can take the boy home, though. I’ve got all the necessary documents being faxed to you can bring him back, but I can’t get him a rush identification document for him fast enough for you to take a flight so you’ll need to catch a train or drive down from Ipswich.

Alexander Sullivan

 

**Text message to Aaron**

**Sadie:** I know this is a lot to ask

**Aaron:** Not really

**Sadie:** It’s 2hrs both ways

**Aaron:** I’ll be there to pick them up by the time they’re released

* * *

The name on his birth certificate identified him as Raleigh Dashiell Klein, and he was absolutely adorable.

And alien.

In the hour and a half long drive from the Ipswich Police Station to London, Raleigh hadn’t said a single word. He also hadn’t eaten or drunken anything offered to him, and when Charlie had watched little boy shiver in spite of the mild temperature and even after Aaron had worriedly cranked on the heat. So Charlie hadn’t asked Raleigh when he’d pulled his Ralph Lauren hoodie over the child’s head, and instead, he’d taken the slightest bit of comfort in the way Raleigh had pulled it around knobby knees and buried his head in the collar leaving only his dirty, matted inky waves so like Patrick’s peeking out of the neck.

Raleigh hadn’t moved beyond the shifting back and forth of the car and hadn’t made a peep _at all_. The closest he’d come to a response had been the instinctual licking of his lips when Charlie had gently offered him a bottle of water and rested it on the seat beside the boy who’d spent a solid ten minutes staring at the bottle with wide, hazel eyes glazed over with need.

By the time Aaron pulled the car up in front of the house, Raleigh was still awake, still hiding in Charlie’s hoodie, and still sitting still like an animal convinced that without sudden movement he wouldn’t be seen.

They rolled to a stop, and Aaron glanced around the seat, his eyes going first to the kid who’d impossibly stiller and then to Charlie who raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. Aaron cleared his throat, his eyes darting once more to the boy before meeting Charlie’s with a wane smile. “Poppy’s still here.” Charlie ran a hand tiredly through his hair and nodded. Aaron hesitated before continuing haltingly, “Is it the best idea to have her around him?”

“Maybe not,” Charlie admitted, “but _I_ need her here.”

Aaron sighed and nodded, “Good luck, Chaz.”

“Thanks,” he smiled slightly, exhausted as he climbed out of the car. He threw his bag over one shoulder and trekked to the other side of the car. Carefully, Charlie opened the door, sighing sympathetically as the kid startled and shrunk away from the open door, his eyes staring out of the hoodie with fright. Charlie smiled at him softly, aware even as he did it that it wouldn’t provide the child the any comfort. “This is…your…” he sighed and grimaced, unsure how to proceed, and Raleigh’s eyes went wider as he leaned away. Charlie ran a shaking hand through his hair and tried again. “Your dad and I live here. This is his house. You’re going to stay here for awhile, Raleigh.”

When Raleigh did nothing more than breathe quickly, Charlie slowly reached out and pulled the tiny body into his arms, scowling both at the child’s violent trembling and how light he felt in Charlie’s arms. He met Aaron’s eyes as the man slipped out of the car to close the door while Charlie juggled both Raleigh and his bag, giving him an encouraging smile that Charlie couldn’t manage to return as he turned and shouldered through the gate.

Poppy opened the door before Charlie had to struggle with it, her eyes widening minutely as they took in the scrawny, almost skeletal child in Charlie’s arms.

He could hear Snow barking from further down the hall, and Raleigh jolted in surprise, his head peeking up the depths of the fabric to peer down the hall curiously before he stiffened visibly upon seeing Poppy.

His sister didn’t bother to smile at the boy.

Instead, she met his gaze levelly, keeping back from him and tucking her hands in the back pocket of her jeans as she tossed her blonde hair out of her eyes. “Hi, Raleigh.” He blinked at her and gnawed on the neck of the hoodie, watching her with blatant distrust but also awe. “I’m Poppy. Charlie’s big sister.”

Raleigh hid his face beneath the hoodie again, and Charlie pressed his lips together and looked to Poppy who reached out to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly, her eyes full of concern for the tiny slip of a child in his arms.

“Where’s my dog?” Charlie inquired, stifling a triumphant smile at gaining the child’s genuine interest.

Poppy shrugged, “I thought she might be too much excitement right now…for _everyone_.” She looked at him pointedly, and Charlie didn’t bother to deny it. “I locked her in the backyard. She’ll be alright there for tonight as long as you run by and greet her later on.”

“Lovely,” Charlie nodded, letting Poppy slip the bag from off his shoulder. “Where did you…?”

“The guestroom next to your room,” she informed him curtly before her gaze darted to the boy. Charlie nodded to let her know he understood her reluctance to talk in front of him, inclining his towards the stairs.

Poppy trailed up behind him as he slipped into his bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. She tossed the bag onto his chair, darting into the bathroom ahead of them while Charlie hesitated, his arms tightening around Raleigh wondering just how far he could push this kid before he snapped. Before he could muse too long on it, Poppy poked her head out and frowned at him.

“You okay?”

“He _needs_ a bath, but…he won’t even sleep with people in the room.” Charlie pleaded with her, not mentioning how he did not at all feel comfortable bathing a child he was in no way related to.

Nodding sagely, Poppy clapped her hands together. “Time to toughen up, Chaz. Welcome to parenthood. He needs a bath. I’ve got it running. Strip him and bathe him. I’ll run and grab the pajamas I bought for him. There’s baby soap and hair products on the shelf along with a brush for him.” She pressed a peck to Charlie’s cheek as she swept out of the room.

Charlie grimaced and went into the bathroom, flicking on the space heater having observed how easily the kid got cold and setting Raleigh on the marble countertop. He shot him a quick glance, not at all concerned he’d move, and checked on the temperature of the water, cranking up the heat slightly and crooking his eyebrow at the sight of the bath toys and bubble soap. The kid was practically catatonic; he wasn’t about to play with toys and bubbles.

Turning to Raleigh, Charlie watched the three year old’s eyes peek up at him, holding his gaze after a decisive flinch. Charlie crouched down until he met Raleigh’s gaze levelly. “You need to take a bath, love. I’m going to take all these dirty clothes off, and we’re going to wash you and brush up your hair all nice and then put you in nice clean pajamas, alright? Understand?”

Raleigh blinked and leaned away from Charlie who sighed.

Poppy swept into the room and flicked off the water, glancing at them warily but remaining back to let Charlie handle the boy.

He didn’t seem to care when Charlie stripped off the hoodie, putting up a quiet protest and gripping the fabric weakly, but Raleigh kicked up a fuss when Charlie started to pull off the clothes that looked like they hadn’t seen a washing machine since he’d put them on back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Even if any of it could be recovered, as soon as Charlie caught sight of the disgusting pants that made him want to track down either Kelsie Klein or her useless boyfriend and issue some Old Testament justice of ‘how do you like’, he knew all the clothes included the worn canvas trainers would be set on fire at the nearest opportunity.

The kid seethed, chest heaving from the fight he’d put up, but didn’t protest as Charlie picked him up to deposit him in the water. Raleigh stiffened at first before he seemed to melt into the warm water, his eyes fluttering happily as his face remained stony.      

Poppy snagged Charlie’s laptop from his bedroom and started flipping through the websites of London’s baby stores with Charlie’s debit card between her teeth. Charlie watched Raleigh soak up the peace of being in the bathtub as he peered over Poppy’s shoulder and pointed out things to add to her numerous online carts.

“You’ll have to get him shoes,” Poppy told Charlie. “And some of the clothes probably won’t fit since you didn’t tell me I’d be dressing a skeleton.”

Charlie grimaced, “He won’t eat anything. At all. From anyone.”

Nodding slowly, Poppy pursed her lips with an angry expression before she continued. “Yeah, so, I only bought him the basics since I know how you are about clothes. Some trousers and shirts. A beanie. A hoodie. Pajamas.”

“Stormtrooper pajamas,” Charlie said, amused.

“From _Selfridges_ ,” she defended stiffly. “I left the sheets on the bed, but I bought him a Winnie the Pooh fleece blanket. Mum bought the bath stuff and lotion. She says he can eat, you know, real people food, but you’ll just need to watch serving sizes and possible allergic reactions since he might be too young to have had that dealt with. She sent me with some of your kids books, they’re in the room, and so is your Paddington teddy bear and most of your Beanie Baby collection. You should wash him.”

Charlie turned to find Raleigh’s eyes open and gazing at him with interest more than fear for the first time, the dirt from his skin beginning to stain the water a pale brown. Kneeling down beside the tub, Raleigh tensed up and watched him uneasily as Charlie grabbed a plastic cup and the kid’s shampoo, squeezing a dollop onto his hand. He held it up to Raleigh’s searching gaze. “I’m going to clean your hair and brush it, Raleigh. It might hurt a little, but it’s not intentional and it’s going to be quick, just until I get all the knots out.”

Raleigh tensed and closed his eyes as Charlie poured some of the water over his locks before reaching over to work the shampoo through his matted hair. The kid gritted his teeth and didn’t cry out, but Charlie could tell he wanted to. Tender-headed then, he’d have to remember that. He brushed his hair quickly, and the more the knots loosen, the more his face changed from stifled pain to numbing bliss. Poppy discreetly snapped a picture, and Charlie rolled his eyes as he rinsed Raleigh’s hair out and moved for the conditioner.

“Mum sent over our dishes and cutlery from when we were little, and I put that in your empty cabinet next to the stove.” Charlie nodded, massaging Raleigh’s scalp while the kid’s eyes slipped closed, and he hummed quietly, not flinching as Charlie reached for the brush to gently pull it through the thick waves of dark hair in a technique he’d perfected on the kid’s spitting image. He should call Patrick, but Charlie didn’t know what to tell him, not really, especially not when no matter the situation he couldn’t just up and leave filming in LA to deal with whatever was going on here. “I put a monitor in his room.”

Charlie frowned, “Isn’t he a little old for that?”

“Probably, but it wouldn’t hurt,” Poppy pointed out.

He conceded with a shrug. “Anything else?”

“Mmm, yeah, mum gave me the number of a pediatrician for him and a dentist. She suggests you get a nanny.” Charlie gave Poppy a cold look, and she raised her hands innocently. “Hey, she said it not me. I decided not to push it for now. It was enough of a struggle to convince her to stay at home instead of coming all the way out here. I assumed you and Raleigh wouldn’t be okay with that.”

“Probably not,” Charlie remarked, soaking the washcloth and soaping it up before he starting gently scrubbing the fine layer of dirt from Raleigh’s pale, bruised skin.

Slowly, he began to tense up again, and Charlie tugged lightly one of his curls, scraping his blunt nails against Raleigh’s scalp, smiling to himself as a little of the tension bled from him.

“Have you talked to Patty?”

Charlie glared at her before turning back to Raleigh. He swiped the plush towel off of the counter and urged Raleigh to stand up on shaky legs, cocooning him in the soft cotton fabric and emptying to tub before plucking him up to sit him back on the counter.

“And what would I say?” Charlie replied as he toweled off Raleigh’s long but blessedly clean hair. Raleigh sat still and silent even as his eyes moved shrewdly between Charlie and Poppy. “Not the truth, so best I say nothing at all right now,” he replied. “Besides, someone needs to focus on Raleigh right now, and Patrick can’t be objective about this.”

“And you can?”

“I didn’t have half my DNA running around two hours away from me for years,” Charlie pointed out before he turned and focused on Raleigh, tapping his clothe-covered thigh. “Arms up.”

Slowly, Raleigh raised his hands, and Charlie pulled the long-sleeved pajama top on before picking him up to stand on his feet, pulling on his bottoms. He stood awkwardly on the countertop seeming more naked without having a yards and yards of fabric to hide himself beneath. Charlie put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows on Raleigh. “You want another of my hoodies to hide yourself in, love?”

“Or Patty’s,” Poppy pointed out, unfolding herself from where she sat cross-legged on top of the toilet seat, the laptop underarm.

Timidly, Raleigh nodded, and Charlie beamed at him, not even upset when the boy winced away from him, his eyes wide at the action. Charlie swept him up in his arms and stalked into his bedroom, pulling open the closet and plucking Patrick’s NYC hoodie off of a hanger and tugging it on over Raleigh’s tiny body. He seemed to drown in it, but Raleigh seemed happy enough, clutching the overlong fabric of the sleeves to his chest to cuddle them with a serene expression.

Charlie nodded and picked him up again, striding down the hall to the bedroom door right next door.

The guestroom had been transformed into something a little more kid friendly with a star night light, a teddy bear, kid’s books on the shelf, and the fleece blanket over the Queen-size bed and it’s expensive Egyptian Cotton sheets. It still needed work, but that would come in time, hopefully when Raleigh had grown used to everyone enough to speak up. Poppy crept in and drew back the sheets, and Charlie set the boy down in the center of the bed.

“I’m just down the hall if you need anything. There’s a bathroom through that door there. You sleep here, and I’ll be right next door.” Raleigh’s eyes went wider, more with awe than fear, Charlie thought, and he pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s forehead before standing and following Poppy out of the room, closing the door behind him.

They went into Charlie’s room, and Poppy turned to Charlie with a stricken expression.

“Jesus fuck, Charlie, how are you?”

“Exhausted.”

“Are you processing this?”

“You mean my boyfriend having a secret love child? I’ve been a little busy caring for said love child, threatening social workers, and getting my solicitor to yell at people. I haven’t had time to process. It’s going to be enough of a pill dealing with Patrick; I need to be here for Raleigh. I don’t have time to check out.” Charlie told Poppy tiredly as he sat down cross-legged on his bed.

Poppy pursed her lips, “You need to tell him. He doesn’t like surprises.”

“No fucking shit, but I can’t focus on him right now, Poppy.” Charlie laughed humorlessly, running a trembling hand through his hair. “There’s a child. _His_ broken child. I love Patrick, and I don’t want to hurt him, but he can’t just _be here_ right now so I can’t tell him. And what he wants doesn’t matter. That child is now the priority, and I don’t know if we’re ready for this, but this is where we are.”

Slowly, she nodded and reached out to take Charlie’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Make sure you process this, Chaz, so you don’t explode, because they’ll _both_ need you so you _don’t_ have the benefit of freaking out and imploding.”

“Got it…” Charlie trailed off and frowned, tilting his head as his eyes darted to the baby monitor.

“What?” Poppy started.

Charlie made for the door, and he pressed a finger to his lips and tiptoed down the stairs with Poppy pressed close behind him. They peered around the doorway of the kitchen and watched as the three year old climbed onto the bench seats of the kitchen breakfast nook. He grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table and tried tugged it open, eventually using his teeth to gnaw through it and pry it off with fumbling hands until he took a bite.

“What are you going to do about that?” Poppy raised her eyebrows at the kid.

Charlie grinned and shrugged, “Nothing. I can work with that.”


	35. "Stand By You" by Rachel Platten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick comes home early...surprise

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@SinTatu @NikkiKnowsBest @Liam_Kyle have absolutely ruined my appetite. Thanks very much. #worstfriendsever

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Salem:** I think we’re buying a house in Tokyo

**Charlie:** I have a child.

**Salem:** WTAF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

**Salem:** In what world would you ever had SPAWN?

**Salem:** Explain. NOW!

**Charlie:** Don’t tell Patrick.

**Salem:** Motherfucker

**Salem:** I’ll send you some shit

**Charlie:** God bless you

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Life just got super interesting up in this bitch

 

**Text message from Patrick**

**Patrick:** You get everything sorted out?

**Charlie:** For the most part

**Charlie:** I’m definitely more on even footing

**Patrick:** Sooooooo can I caaaaallllll youuuuuuu? I miss you.

**Charlie:** Lolz you miss the orgasms I can give u from a whole other country

**Patrick:** Chhhhaaaaaaazzzzzzzaaaaaaa

**Charlie:** And uh no im not that much on even footing

**Patrick:** Fucks sake really?

**Charlie:** ;)

**Patrick:** Youre fucking with me right?

**Charlie:** I love you but no

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Your kid and your management

Chaz

I know you wanted to put your coming out plans on hold until everything with Raleigh got sorted. Fair enough. But how we planned primary image control to switch over might become necessary anyway. Patrick’s management has to deal with Raleigh, and I’ve been working with them to make sure that for the time being Raleigh doesn’t exist in public. I’d prefer it if that stayed that way until we’ve found and sorted everything with Kelsie Klein and her family. Luckily her boyfriend knows nothing because I doubt he’d honor a gag order. You, on the other hand, your management only has to put up with some much between you and Raleigh. They haven’t outright said anything yet to the effect of worsening the harshness of your closet, but I’m not confident it will stay that way for long.

I’ll keep an eye on it,

Harry

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Nervous. Excited. Super happy.

* * *

Patrick hated surprises, but Charlie loved them, which was why he’d been hedging and avoiding all week about when he’d be coming home.

Never let it be said that he didn’t have a romantic streak, because, at least when it came to Charlie, he absolutely did. Aaron had picked Patrick up from the airport and shook his head with fond amusement as he carted him from his favorite florist to pick up Charlie’s favorite sunflowers and stopping off at Godiva for chocolate and a feather necklace from Coach further down the street.

He practically vibrated with nervous, excited energy the closer they got to the house.

Waving goodbye to Aaron, Patrick jogged up the stairs and hesitated in the door, unsure. Things had been weird since not long after Charlie had gotten home in mid-June. Weird in a way Patrick couldn’t quite put his finger on. He just seemed edgy, nervous, agitated whenever he talked to Patrick – whenever he _deigned_ to talk to Patrick. They’d almost always had a tendency to prioritize each other’s call, texts, or whatever else, but Charlie had been dropping phone calls abruptly, avoid Skype chats altogether. The only comfort Patrick had took in their seemingly regimented contact had been that Charlie seemed to be doing it on the whole, his Instagram had gone completely inactive and Twitter nearly so.

Patrick hadn’t wanted to admit how worried he was about his boyfriend, especially not when Charlie had seemed to put extra effort into making sure Patrick didn’t worry or even notice anything out of the ordinary. The problem with that had been Patrick knew Charlie extremely well, had since before they’d started dating and even before they’d started having sex. He could tell when Charlie was hiding things, being shifty, being shady, even when he was lying, which might be a feat in and of itself.

Snow barked from the moment he inserted his key in the door, and he could hear the scurrying of her paws against the wood floors from outside. She wedged her nose in the crack of the door excitedly, and Patrick laughed, reaching down to pet her head as he gently maneuvered her out of the way. He dropped his bags by the door and his keys in the bowl on the table before following Snow down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Patrick dropped the chocolate and the jewelry box on the counter and pulled a vase out from underneath the sink, filling it with water halfway and arranging the flowers in it, stilling when he heard the low sounds of the television coming from the living room. He frowned and tilted his head, leaving the flowers behind as he made his way down the hallway towards the sound with Snow in tow.

The dog brushed passed him excitedly, letting out a quiet yip of greeting, and someone giggled.

Confused, Patrick stepped into the room and found his gaze drawn to the tiny, scrawny child sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor with his skinny arms wrapped around Snow’s neck, burying a smile in her fur.

_What the hell?_

He seemed settled there, bathed in the afternoon sunlight, and taken care of. _Thomas and Friends_ played on the screen. A bowl of chopped melon and kids cereal sat in two colored bowls on the coffee table beside an Olaf plastic cup. A coloring book and crayons lay on the floor in front of the kid with half constructed LEGOs and a collection of dinosaur toys also littered about.

What raised the biggest alarm bells – aside from how tiny the kid looked, meager, practically skeletal and the fading bruises that marred his pale skin – were the clothes he wore. Namely, the Ralph Lauren hoodie and track pants Patrick couldn’t imagine on a child Charlie was just babysitting. Also, they didn’t know anyone with a toddler as far as Patrick was aware, which begged the question of who this kid was, where he’d come from, and why his belongings seemed to be riddled about the house he shared with his boyfriend.

Snow sat beside the child and whined.

The kid turned his head and stared up at Patrick with a fear so visceral, Patrick startled back. Those hazel eyes spoke of things seen that no child ever should, and he squeaked quietly, stumbling to his feet and darting just passed Patrick, out of the room, and crawled with practiced precision up the stairs.

For a moment Patrick gaped, and Snow huffed before trotting up after the kid.

Patrick followed too, slower and shocked.

The child and the dog disappeared into his and Charlie’s room, and he hesitated on the threshold before pushing open the door and stilling at the scene.

Charlie sat back against the pillows with his phone pressed to his ear and his eyebrows furrowed on his laptop in front of him. He didn’t even startle as the kid dove beneath the covers and rolled close to Charlie, his wide hazel eyes peering out at Patrick fearfully, and Snow settled in beside the toddler, wedging him in between Charlie’s body and Snow’s own, her eyes on Patrick warily, reading the little boy’s mood.

When he’d finished, Charlie raised his eyebrows and looked down at the kid, carding his fingers gently through his hair. “What are you doing, Raleigh? Is your show over?”

The kid – Raleigh’s – eyes darted pointedly towards Patrick.

Frowning Charlie looked up and stilled, his face blanching upon finding Patrick in the doorway. “Patty…” he started hesitantly.

“Chaz,” Patrick forced out through clenched teeth. “What is going on?”

“I can explain.”

“Please do.”

Pausing, Charlie looked back down at the kid and smiled softly at him, and the kid relaxed, staring up at Charlie with a tentative trust. “I’m going to talk to Patrick for a minute, alright? He’s not going hurt you, and Snow will stay here with you if you want.” Raleigh nodded timidly, and Charlie smiled at him, tapping Snow’s snout. “Stay.” The dog snorted, and Charlie climbed out of bed, taking Patrick’s hand and pulling the bedroom door shut behind him.

“What the hell – ?” He started.

Charlie shook his head, “Wait. Raleigh hears _everything_ when he’s scared.”

Patrick let Charlie tug him downstairs and into the living room. He flipped off the television and closed the coloring book, placing the book and the crayons on the coffee table while Patrick dropped to sit cross-legged on the window seat, watching his boyfriend’s methodical movements with a growing sense of unease.

“Who is he?”

“You remember Vans Warped Tour?” Charlie asked suddenly.

Patrick frowned, “Yes, of course.”

“You remember sleeping with a girl…”

“I slept with a lot of people at Vans Warped,” Patrick admitted cautiously.

Charlie’s shoulder dropped, defeated, and Patrick reached out for him, letting Charlie lace their fingers together and come sit beside him. “This girl was a fan. Young. Only a year older than me. Hair dyed pink.”

“You want me to say I remember, but I don’t,” Patrick confessed. And not at all for the same reason he’d claimed not to remember Charlie. Patrick had traveled for over a week with Bittersweet Surrender, and the early days at Vans Warped Tour had been a haze of sex, marijuana, and booze. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember sleeping with her, he just couldn’t pinpoint that one girl specifically out of the dozen people he’d slept with in a drunk, poorly advised romp.

“Well, she got pregnant.”

Patrick stared at his boyfriend with rising panic. _That’s not fucking possible. I absolutely used a condom. I’m not a fucking moron_. “Bullshit,” he deadpanned.

Charlie shook his head. “Pete called Harry when the police contacted him, and Harry had them run a DNA test first thing. He’s yours.”

“He can’t be.”

“Patrick,” Charlie sighed, pleading with him.

Swallowing his heightened horror, Patrick took a breath and tried to calm himself as he pressed on. “Where’s the kid’s mother?”

“Missing,” Charlie replied curtly, tightly, angrily even. Patrick frowned at him, and Charlie grimaced, “Kelsie, apparently, decided motherhood didn’t suit her. Dropped Raleigh off at an Argos in Ipswich and took off. It took all day for the store’s employees to realize he’d been abandoned and called the police. They picked him up and identified Kelsie off a CCTV camera in the store, found your name on his birth certificate so they contacted Pete.”

“Fuck outta here,” Patrick snapped furiously. “He could have been taken by _anyone_.”

Charlie snorted, his expression irate. “Harry’s got people looking for her.”

“The bruises?”

“Kelsie’s ex-boyfriend was charged with domestic abuse four times.”

Patrick cursed, and Charlie nodded as Patrick demanded angrily, “And they _left_ him there?”

Charlie held up at hand with his jaw clenched. “Child Protective Services and I have already had it out about that, but my promising not to cause problems for them over that was the only reason I was allowed to bring Raleigh here at all.”

Sighing but deciding to let it go for now, Patrick ran a violently trembling hand through his thick hair. Hair that his… _son_ shared with him. Motherfucker. “He’s skinny.”

“He’s malnourished,” Charlie admitted. Patrick cursed again, and Charlie shrugged with a tired sigh. “I took him to a pediatrician my mother recommended. He gave me a nutritional plan for Raleigh to help get him back on track with his weight but still thinks it might have affected his natural growth. We’ll see, but it’s difficult enough getting him to eat at all. He’ll eat during the day now, at least.” Patrick frowned in confusion, and Charlie explained, “When he first got here, Raleigh’d only eat if I put food out in the kitchen at night. Now, at least, he’ll eat during the day but never in front of people.”

“We’ll have to work on that,” Patrick muttered.

Charlie turned to him in surprise, eyes welling with tears. “Yeah, we will.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“He doesn’t speak. Ever. I think he _can_ , but he just _won’t_.”

“Okay,” Patrick nodded.

“We’ll need to talk to CPS now that you’re home. I hate his social worker.” Patrick laughed and nodded his head. “The kid loves dinosaurs, Sci-Fi, and tasteless baby cereal. Brandon dropped off copies of his birth certificate, NHS number, and some other stuff, but we’ll need to apply for a passport once we get all his shit sorted with the courts. He has the worst birthdate ever. He was born on Leap Day.”

“Fuck off,” Patrick sighed, sniggering.

Charlie elbowed him. “Don’t laugh. That’s evil. That’s worst day to have a birthday. It’s only official once every four years. How gross. And he’s Raleigh Dashiell Klein on his birth certificate.”

“Dashiell?” Patrick inquired with a scowl and a sigh. This, it seemed, was what happened when his one night stands gave birth to his secret, illegitimate children. They named them bizarre things that set his teeth on edge. Raleigh he didn’t mind. Klein would have to go just like the woman who’d abandoned her toddler in an Argos without care or thought to all the psychotic people out there who could hurt him. But Dashiell was…who even came up with that nonsense?

Patrick turned to Charlie and ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the tension in his boyfriend’s body. He rested his chin on Charlie’s shoulder and gazed at his profile uneasily. “How are you dealing with all this?”

Charlie laughed weakly, “I’m dealing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted.

Patrick felt his stomach flip and his heart clench painfully as he stared at Charlie’s downcast expression. What if Charlie didn’t want to do this? Couldn’t do this? Charlie was twenty-one and hadn’t accidentally knocked up a random hook up. He didn’t have to do this with Patrick, maybe didn’t even want to, and Patrick could understand that, truly, because Charlie had put up with a lot from Patrick but of all the things he’d signed on for, Patrick sincerely doubted that raising a traumatized toddler when he was so young and their relationship still so fragile had ever crossed his mind.

As much as Patrick wanted to be with Charlie, wanted them to stay together and to work out, he had to wonder if that was something Charlie wanted too or even felt comfortable with. He couldn’t blame Charlie for not sticking around as Patrick maneuvered through parenthood he’d neither desired at this stage in his life nor asked for. It would be enough of an issue to try and work through Raleigh’s traumas, Patrick’s schedule, the press problems that this presented, and the growing mistrust Patrick felt about leaving Raleigh with anyone after he’d been through so much.

Clearing his throat and resting his forehead against Charlie’s temple, Patrick admitted sourly, haltingly, through his teeth. “You…you know Chaz…” Charlie frowned and looked at him. “I know this is a lot,” Patrick finally managed to force out, looking at the wall over his boyfriend’s shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to do this with me.”

“Are you serious right now?” Charlie demanded quietly.

_Please don’t leave me. I need you here._

Patrick didn’t say that as much as he wanted to. He cleared his throat and nodded unsteadily. “I know this isn’t what you…”

“Shut up,” Charlie said without any heat to his voice. He caught Patrick’s chin in hand and turned him to meet Charlie’s sapphire eyes, eyes that regarded him with no less love and no less surety than he had before a toddler had been dropped on his doorstep like a living A-bomb into their already complicated lives. “I’m frustrated about a lot things but not you and not him. We briefly acknowledged we wanted children. Once. This is just…a little earlier than we’d been expecting.”

Laughing wetly, Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from Charlie as he reached out to brush the tears Patrick hadn’t even realized had started to fall from his cheeks. He leaned into the touch, and Charlie’s smile only widened, his dimples popping out as he shook his head. “You think we can do this?”

“It’s gonna be difficult,” Charlie admitted with a weak smile. “We’re going to have to seriously reevaluate where and when we have sex with a child in the house.” Patrick barked out a laugh as he nodded in agreement; Charlie beamed and continued, leaning forward to press a long kiss to Patrick’s lips, “But I’m in this with you. I love you, and we can learn to love Raleigh the way he deserves to be loved.”

“Enough people have run out on him,” Patrick told Charlie softly, cupping his face in his hands. “If we do this, we have to be all in it regardless of what happens with us, you know that?”

“He’s _your_ son,” Charlie told Patrick.

“Not really, though,” Patrick returned lightly. “We’re starting this off as a team. He’s our son. _Our_ responsibility. _Our_ problem.”

Charlie fell silent and bit the inside of his cheek as he studied Patrick silently, his face inscrutable before he nodded slowly, pulling in a deep, jagged breath. “This is gonna be hardest thing we’ve ever done, you know that?”

“I know,” Patrick admitted uneasily.

“You want to officially meet him?”

Patrick offered him a watery smile, “Can I?”

Tossing back a dimpled smile, Charlie nodded and tugged Patrick off the window seat and tugged him down the hallway and up the stairs.

He hesitated in front of the door to their bedroom, and Charlie peered back at him patiently as Patrick stifled his nerves and got himself together. They waited until Patrick gave Charlie a single decisive nod, and then Charlie was lightly tapping two fingers on the back of the door before opening it.

Snow sat up in the center of the bed with her eyes narrowed on them, her body taut and on high alert.

Raleigh sat up beside her, with his arms wrapped around her neck and his torso draped over her back as his wide hazel eyes took them in cautiously. He made a move like he wanted to stick his thumb in his mouth. Patrick cringed, and Raleigh flinched with the tip of his finger pressed against his lip, quickly hiding his face in the dog’s fur and clenching his bony fingers into her ruff.

Surprisingly, Snow didn’t flinch, only slowly lowered her head onto the bed as her eyes tracked them warily.

Charlie pulled Patrick along behind him and sat down on the bed beside the painfully thin boy. He rested a hand on Raleigh’s back, and the boy jolted before settling into the touch. Patrick bit his lip and looked away, swallowing his rising anger at the fact that someone could have willfully done this to a toddler, could have bruised him, could have starved him, could have neglected him, could have turned him into the terrified, untrusting three-year-old who’d become who wouldn’t even eat food in front of people.

He needed to put a lid on it because Raleigh wouldn’t think of it in terms of being anger _for_ him; he’d think Patrick was angry _at_ him.

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair and turned back to meet the little boy’s eyes that widened and quickly shifted to Charlie who had, blessedly, apparently been labeled as at least moderately safe.

“Raleigh, this is my…Patrick. Patty. He’s your father, do you understand?” Raleigh’s eyes flickered back and forth between Charlie, his whole body slowly tensing as he pressed himself against Charlie, one hand moving from Snow’s fur to curl into the fabric of Charlie’s jumper when he couldn’t gain purchase in the tight denim of his trousers. “Patty’s your dad.”

Raleigh shook his head and shot Charlie a look of such bone-deep betrayal that Charlie flinched, and Patrick moved and crouched down beside the bed. He rested one hand on Charlie’s thigh to keep himself balanced, and Raleigh noted both that and Charlie resting his hand atop Patrick’s and lacing their fingers together. He seemed to _want_ to relax but was unsure if he should.

“I’m not taking you away from Charlie, Raleigh, okay?” Raleigh blinked at him, but some of the tension seemed to ease. “I live here with him. We’re going to take care you together, alright? We’re not gonna let anything happen to you again, I promise.”

Slowly, Raleigh sat up, his gaze moving to Charlie for reassurance, and Charlie nodded and smiled at him softly, running a hand over the kid’s hair. He scooted forward towards Patrick, still thrumming with nervous energy, and Snow shifted behind him to press against him, nudging his leg with the tip of her snout. Raleigh placed a hand on Snow’s head to calm her as he sat between Charlie and Patrick, his eyes, wary but curious, on Patrick.

At a snail’s pace and with unmasked hesitation, Raleigh reached out and rubbed a lock of Patrick’s hair between his thumb and fingers, his eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement and curiosity as his nose scrunched up.

Patrick smiled up with wonder at Charlie who had a hand over his mouth and tears welling in his eyes.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I've officially finished writing this story (kind of). Usually, they're 60 chapters long, and this will be too (sort of). It's actually going to be 62 as I've decided to post a short story from the pet's perspective I was challenged to write (I will deliver. I finished it last night) and an epilogue...because writing adult Raleigh will be my absolute, genuine pleasure. Anyway, I have every intention to update this every day starting...well last night actually unless I'm ill or my roommates piss me off and get our electricity cut again.


	36. "Embers" by Owl City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The unapproved take-your-traumatised-child to work day.

**Group MMS between Shannon, Ra-Ra, Patrick, Brian, and Adam**

**Shannon:** You should really call your mother about this?

**Brian:** About what?

**Adam:** I’m not calling my mother about anything.

**Shannon:** My bad. @Patrick you should really call you mother about this.

**Brian:** About what? Pt 2

**Ra-Ra:** What did he do?

**Patrick:** I knock up a one night stand 3yrs ago.

**Patrick:** Also I’m a little busy

**Patrick:** Also I still don’t want to talk to her

**Shannon:** Bullshit

**Brian:** You have a child???????

**Ra-Ra:** When can we meeeeeeeet your spawn?

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Gag Orders and Photo Bans

Charlie and Patrick,

In terms of the legal side of the press reporting on Raleigh, it’s not going to happen. We’ve gotten gag orders, photo bans, and a whole host of other things being issued to make sure that doesn’t happen and they can’t report on it. I know you boys trust your teams, but I’ve had NDAs drawn up and sent out to your PAs and Aaron (including his family) as well as some other people. Obviously, the press can’t say anything but that doesn’t mean people in your life can’t via social media. When you’re ready for everyone to know about him, we’ll revisit this conversation otherwise everything’s fine for now.

You should take him to see a therapist,

Harry Benton-Sterling

PS Chaz we need to talk about your management freaking out

 

**Text message to Harry**

**Charlie:** Im ignoring them

**Harry:** Which them?

**Charlie:** All of them.

**Charlie:** How’s Patty’s management?

**Harry:** More cooperative than yours.

**Charlie:** Fuck.

 

**Group MMS between Mum, Poppy, Salem, Fitz, Patrick, and Charlie**

**Mum:** When am I gonna meet my grandbaby?

**Charlie:** Ffs mum

**Mum:** Poppy got to meet him.

**Charlie:** Because she was there. Because I needed her.

**Mum:** Fitz and I want to meet him

**Fitz:** Leave me out of this Libby

**Mum:** Answer me Chazza

**Charlie:** Im a little busy updating my will with my solicitor mum

**Patrick:** Raleigh’s working through a lot rn Libby. You can meet him when he can handle it

**Salem:** Maybe he should go to therapy

**Charlie:** We’re arguing about it as we speak.

* * *

 

“Go over this with me again,” Patrick called from the kitchen.

Charlie knelt down in front of an increasingly nervous Raleigh, pulling on his light hoodie and adjusting the beanie on his head while Raleigh huffed quietly and scowled. He pecked the tip of the boy’s nose, and Raleigh drew back, eyes wide and his hands over his nose as he watched Charlie like he was a poisonous snake. He laughed and plucked Raleigh up from the ground, tossing him over his shoulder while the boy stifled giggles into his hands.

Peering around the corner into the kitchen, Charlie sidled up to Patrick and plucked the travel mug from Patrick’s fingers and leaned over to press a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. He shifted Raleigh to sit on his waist, and his hands clenched in Charlie’s sheer shirt tightly as he rested his head on Charlie’s shoulder, eyes on Patrick’s with the same wary wonder he’d looked at him with since Charlie had told the boy that Patrick was his father a week ago.

“Stop freaking out,” Charlie insisted.

“I’m not,” Patrick responded with a sigh and looped his arm around Charlie’s neck and pressed against him, carefully mindful of Raleigh.

“Right,” he drawled, “we have our table read in half an hour.” Patrick blew out a frustrated breath and nodded, and Charlie ducked his head to hide a smile while Raleigh reached out to poke Patrick’s cheek. Patrick playfully caught Raleigh’s finger in his mouth, and Raleigh gasped and stared at him with his lips pressed together and his eyes wide with alarm. “You have an interview with Hollis. I have interview with Sienna and Dexter. Aaron agreed to watch Raleigh. It’ll be quick, half an hour each. He can watch it’ll be fine. I have to present final drafts of the finale script to Taylor and some of the other execs, then I have a meeting with Li Min, Xavier, and Harry. So you’ll need to take munchkin to his appointment. Aaron has the address if you don’t want to drive him yourself. I should be there before he goes in with her. It’ll be fine.”

Patrick took a long breath and nodded, forcing a smile, and Charlie shook his head and threaded his fingers through Patrick’s hair, pulling him in for a kiss as he shook his head and slapped his cheek lightly with his hand.

“Everything’s gonna be fine, but not if we’re late! Let’s go!” Charlie ordered, pressing another kiss to Patrick’s lips before pulling back.

Raleigh wiggled in his arms, and Charlie set him down so the boy could run over to Snow and give her a goodbye hug and kiss.

Patrick picked up the messenger bag and handed it to Charlie. “Water. A couple juice pouches. That disgusting cereal he likes. Some fruit. Anything else?”

“Change of clothes just in case?” Charlie asked as he took the bag from Patrick and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Got it,” Patrick said, stepping around the island and scooping up Raleigh who giggled and wriggled around in his arms. “His fucking Kylo Ren plushie.” He gave Charlie a dirty look.

Charlie beamed at Patrick, shrugging as they made their way to the door, and Patrick startled at the last second.

“His coloring book! That’s what I forgot.”

“Go to the car, I’ll grab it,” Charlie remarked, backtracking into the living room and petting Snow’s head as he stuffed the booklet and the little container of crayons into the bag. He jogged out of the house and slipped into the car, greeting Aaron cheerfully as Patrick wrestled with the buckles of the car seat while Raleigh watched him curiously before turning to Charlie and holding out a hand. Charlie gave the child his hand, letting him absently toy with the rings as Aaron started driving.

“Raleigh looks adorable,” Aaron said as Patrick threw his hands up and cursed quietly.

Snickering Charlie leaned over to buckle Raleigh in while the boy cocked his head and stared at Patrick with a look that bordered on reproachful.

“I told you to let me get the other car seat,” Patrick huffed at Charlie.

Charlie shrugged, “This one had a better safety rating.”

“I can’t use this one. That makes it plenty unsafe.” Patrick pointed out, and Charlie rolled his eyes as he looked to Aaron with a proud smirk, “I know. He’s fucking adorable. Charlie and I have excellent genes.”

“Do we?” Charlie rolled his eyes and shook his head, looking at Raleigh. “Your daddy’s an idiot.”

Raleigh pressed his mouth into his hands and giggled. Patrick scowled at Charlie. “Am I actually? I could be talking about your shared fashion genes.”

“Are you?” Charlie asked archly.

Patrick smirked and shrugged, “Nope, but I _could have_. I mean look at his outfit.”

Raleigh looked down at himself and tugged on the sweatshirt with a thoughtful frown, and Charlie smiled and met Patrick’s amused eyes before they both quickly turned back to Raleigh who frowned up at them and shook his head, wrapping his arms around himself and sighing quietly.

They’d managed the week with ducking the paparazzi while Sullivan had been hammering together the contracts and court orders to keep the press the hell away from Raleigh. It had been a whirlwind of appointments and trying to find a schedule that worked for Raleigh, bribing and wheedling the little boy into eating three meals a day and preferably in the company of the people who actually had cooked him the food he was putting in his mouth.

Eating together remained touch and go, but once he’d tasted ice cream for the first time, they’d found something that effectively bribed the toddler into eating if not at the table than at least in their presence.

Patrick and Charlie had finished combining their belongings in Charlie’s room, emptying the second floor room that used to belong to Patrick and then asked Raleigh where he’d prefer to sleep. Half the time Raleigh crawled into bed with them in the early mornings, which had been cause for awkwardness and hastily pulled on boxers and sleep bottoms – one time he’d snuck into the room while Charlie had been _riding Patrick’s face_ as Patrick had been eating his own cum from his ass (that had been quite the learning experience) – and the other half had Raleigh collapsing into the bedroom that used to Patrick’s on the floor above them.

Poppy had insisted a child couldn’t have a generic room in his parent’s bland, mature bedsheet sets, which had set them off on a three day adventure to every major baby store in London area with a fascinated Raleigh in tow. It had taken Raleigh approximately ten minutes into being fawned over and outfitted in Ralph Lauren Kids to decide he adored shopping as much as Charlie did, and they’d bonded over buying him adorable – and fucking expensive – kids designer clothes while Patrick had snapped pictures of them on his mobile phone and texted them to their friends and his cousins.

Somehow Charlie had convinced Patrick on a trip to both Selfridges _and_ Harrods, then onto Covent Garden, and a tour through Regent’s and Oxford Street. Raleigh had remained quietly throughout, but sometime between Burberry and Hamley’s the little boy had decided to otherwise throw caution to the wind and developed a poignant and forthright system for ‘yes, I like this’ and ‘absolutely fucking not’. Charlie thought it was beyond adorable, and Patrick cringed when he realized his son was more inclined towards £100 patterned Burberry shirts than simple t-shirts from GAP.

Charlie hadn’t hesitated in the slightest, delighted to have someone else to spoil with expensive clothes.

After he’d sent Salem a picture of Raleigh standing in front of a mirror scowling a diamond-patterned Gucci jumper while he clutched a pair of their cheetah print trainers and £1400 shearling bomber jacket to his chest while Patrick looked on shell-shocked in the background.

Salem had responded with a series of laughing emojis and a snapshot of Bailey looking proud. They’d had a sent a package full of Armani jeans, t-shirts, and jumpers overnight from Tokyo that had had Raleigh having a meltdown of sheer happiness in the middle of the living room.

For all his grumbling, Patrick had evidently been pleased at Raleigh’s sudden interest in getting exactly what he wanted. His passion for toys, board games, and books had brought tears to both Patrick and Charlie’s eyes that they’d had to stifle as Aaron gently helped Raleigh bring his multitude of purchases to the SUV he’d left idling behind the store.

His room had briefly worried both of them since Raleigh seemed to prefer to simple, classic, mature patterns and furniture than what most kids did. The closest he’d gotten to carefree with his room choices had been the assorted _Frozen_ and _Star Wars_ throw pillows, fleece blankets, and the Kylo Ren plushie that Charlie had jokingly showed to Patrick in the Disney store that Raleigh had spotted and latched onto with a passion that had eclipsed the one he’d had for the Paddington teddy bear hand-me-down from Charlie. Paddington had been relegated to sitting on the bookshelf beside Raleigh’s growing assortment of Paddington books. It just seemed that Raleigh had a passion for classic simplicity that wouldn’t be dying any time soon.

Raleigh tensed as they pulled up outside the film studio, and Patrick gripped the little boy’s ankle lightly and tugged, eliciting a weak smile from the little boy. Aaron turned around to smile brightly at the little boy who responded in kind easily. “What you worried about munchkin?” Raleigh shook his head, eyes wide and knuckles pressed against his mouth.

Charlie and Patrick shared a quick glance before Patrick leaned forward to press his nose against Raleigh’s cheek as Charlie rested a hand on Raleigh’s knobby knee. “Don’t worry. Daddy and I have to work, but you’re going to be with us the whole time. There’s gonna be a lot of people you don’t know, but Aaron’s going to stay in case you need a break from all the people. It’s going to be fine, I promise.”

Raleigh looked between the three mean with wide, trusting eyes before nodding hesitantly.

Patrick swept him up into his arms after Charlie unbuckled him from his carseat and followed them into the building, the bag thrown over his shoulder and Aaron following closely behind.

Sadie and Avery waited just inside the door, talking quietly with their heads pressed together. They sprang apart as Patrick and Charlie walked in, blushing and looking away from each other guiltily. Charlie smirked and met Patrick’s eyes as he rolled his, both of them agreeing to ignore the obvious _something_ going on between their PAs for the sake of the immediate situation. Namely, the toddler in Patrick’s arms who’d buried his face in the fabric of Patrick’s shirt, peering over at the pair with one eye while they balked at him in alarm.

Charlie cleared his throat pointedly, and both PAs turned to him with red faces while Raleigh’s head poked up to narrow his eyes at them judgmentally. Patrick ran a hand over his son’s head and stifled a proud smirk as Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the pair of them. “Don’t you two have better things to do than stare at other people’s children?”

“I…”

“Right,” Avery fumbled with his phone until Sadie took it from his hand with a nervous smile.

Patrick looked heavenward. Raleigh narrowed his eyes on them even further. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.

Avery awkwardly offered Patrick two cups of coffee before blushing and realizing he couldn’t take them. Flushing, he turned to Charlie and hesitated. Sadie rolled her eyes and plucked them out of his hand, giving one to Charlie for Patrick and the other to Aaron with an uncomfortable nod.

A door opened, and Taylor appeared in it with her hands crossed over her chest and gaze zeroed in on them.

“There you are. Planning on showing up sometime today?”

“Maybe,” Patrick tossed back lightly, shifting Raleigh on his hip.

Taylor’s eyes narrowed on Raleigh who noted her look and hid back again Patrick, reaching out of Charlie who offered him his pinky to clutch, both his hands full with Patrick’s coffee and his mug of tea. Israel appeared behind Taylor with an irritated expression on hir face as hir eyes locked onto the two PAs.

“I thought the job of personal assistants was to make life easier, not to get everyone into trouble by making them later.” The words were accusing, and Sadie tugged Avery by the arm away from them all while Israel rolled hir eyes and nodded at Aaron in greeting, “Aaron.”

An amused smile tugged at his lips, “Israel.”

“Hey short stack,” Israel greeted Raleigh lightly.

Raleigh peeked up at hir, and Charlie smiled, nodding at Patrick reassuringly before he turned to Raleigh. “You remember Israel, munchkin? Ze came over a little while ago before Daddy got home to help me write. Ze watched _Lilo and Stitch_ with you while I was making stew?”

Slowly, cautiously, but with a burgeoning smile at Israel, Raleigh nodded. Israel winked at him, and he beamed, delighted, and hid shyly against Patrick. Israel laughed, and Taylor cleared her throat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“This is not a daycare.”

Israel rolled hir eyes before anyone else could defend themselves, brushing passed Taylor into the conference room. “Aren’t we late enough as it is?”

“Just because you’re friends with the kid doesn’t make it okay.”

“No need to be so jealous, Tay,” Israel returned, quirking hir eyebrow at Charlie and Patrick over Taylor’s shoulder but moving inside regardless to allow them to fight their own battles.

Charlie looked at Patrick who nodded in Taylor’s direction, and he took a step towards the pair of them with a defiant tilt to his chin. “It’s a bit complicated, Taylor, but we couldn’t get a babysitter and even if we could, after everything he’s been through, we wouldn’t trust her and he’d probably have a meltdown. We just got him relatively calmed down enough to be comfortable with us and some of our family. Right now he needs to stay with us.”

Taylor scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Right. _Now_. What about during filming, which starts in _days_? What then?”

Glancing back at Patrick who rolled his eyes and shrugged, Charlie turned back and admitted without much concern or any apology: “We’ll see then. He’s fragile, and we’re cautious. He’s not going to be any trouble, Taylor. He doesn’t talk. Never screams, never yells, never demands anything beyond toys and designer threads.”

Patrick chuckled, and Charlie saw him bury his grin in Raleigh’s mop of hair.

Raleigh reached up to swat at him with an adorable scowl on his face.

Taylor stared at him hesitantly, sighing as she relented. “Fine, but if he causes a problem he’s out.”

“Of course,” Patrick replied sardonically.

“Thanks,” Charlie finished for him before Taylor could snap, letting Patrick and Raleigh go into the room in front of him.

The whole room went dead silent, laughter dying, as they stepped into the room, Taylor closing the door behind them. Charlie and Patrick ignored everyone as they sat down, letting Raleigh scramble over to curl up in Charlie’s lap as Patrick bent down to pull out their scripts as well as Raleigh’s coloring book and water. Raleigh burrowed into Charlie as much as he physically could, and Patrick rested one hand on Charlie’s thigh and the other gripped his pen in a death grip as he tapped it pointedly against the title page of his script, his eyes taking in the people staring their way.

Taylor sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling out her mobile phone while Israel tossed her a bemused yet exasperated look as ze flipped through hir copy of the book. Li Min glanced between the pair of them and the rest of the table before striding out the door, her fingers already keying in a number as she stalked out. Scout rolled his eyes and scowled, clapping his hands. Raleigh jolted in Charlie’s lap, and he stroked a soothing hand over the boy’s arm as his eyes went to their director.

“Well just get it out then,” Scout ordered. “Nothing will get done otherwise.”

“You have a _kid_?” Mahon blurted out, shocked.

“When the hell did _this_ happen?” Sienna shouted.

Dexter glanced between the two of them, tracing over the features of the little boy clinging desperately to Charlie before his eyes shifted to Patrick. “That child’s _your_ , Gallagher.”

“Yes,” Patrick shrugged, his face inscrutable but his hand tightening almost painfully on Charlie. Even though he knew the grip would result in bruises, Charlie pressed his lips together and bore it in silence, recognizing the gesture for Patrick’s attempt to anchor himself onto something. “This is Raleigh. He’s three. He’s ours. That’s the end of it.”

“You have a _son_?” Evelyn demanded from beside Sienna, shocked. Mahon winced, and Dexter shook his head and shared a commiserating look with Hollis, seeming to wordlessly say that _this_ shit was why his ace and aro ass didn’t even _try_ to date. Dexter sipped his coffee. Scout sighed in exasperation while Taylor leaned over to smack him with a disbelieving look as Israel mouthed, ‘Zip it, hypocrite.’

Raleigh blinked at her and frowned.

“How can you have a _son_?”

Hollis rolled her eyes and leaned against Mahon as Charlie gaped at her before starting sarcastically: “See when two horny people are mildly attracted to each other through the lust-goggled haze of mind-altering substances…”

Patrick elbowed him while Hollis, Israel, and Mahon snickered. Evelyn’s eyes narrowed on him with the same unshakeable fury that had been present since he’d ‘stolen’ _her_ boyfriend over a year ago.

“I knocked up a fan during Vans Warped four years ago. She popped out munchkin here, and now she is…currently…” Patrick looked to Charlie for help.

“Indisposed?”   Charlie offered.

“Sounds good,” Patrick nodded in agreement. “Indisposed. So Chaz and I have decided to keep him.”

“He’s not a puppy,” Felix Turona who played the corrupt Seelie Court king said in disbelief.

“Yeah, are you two equipped for child rearing?” Aisha Maryam, another of the shows half-time guest stars, remarked cautiously. Sienna pointed at Aisha and nodded in exaggerated agreement.

“Doesn’t matter,” Charlie remarked with an arctic smile.

“We’re doing this,” Patrick told them rigidly, “because we want to and we have to. We’re his family, and we’ll figure it out. It’s none of anyone else’s goddamned business quite honestly.”

“Yeah, don’t we have a script to be reading through?” Charlie pointed out and turned towards Scout, Israel, and Taylor who snapped their fingers and nodded pointedly.

Scout cleared his throat, eyes darting briefly to Raleigh who’d decided to class everyone nonthreatening enough to pull his coloring book close and begin his rainbow rendition of _Finding Nemo_. “Right,” he jerked his gaze away when both Charlie and Patrick glared at him. Scout flipped his script open and cleared his throat awkwardly, “right, yes, let’s start from the top if you’d please.”

Charlie and Patrick shared a long, relieved look over Raleigh’s head, and Patrick squeezed Charlie’s thigh in his hand lightly and pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple before focusing on the task at hand. Charlie wondered how long it would take to find another rhythm, one where Raleigh could comfortably fit, but he was starting to think it’d be a lot harder than they’d initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, I lied! Raleigh's short story is more like a novella. My bad. It's also...not...what I...expected (except that it is. I'm sorry.) I'm also sorry I'm teasing it like this when I have no intention of posting it until I finish posting this... :)
> 
> Here's where I admit I know less about PR can/cannot dos than I pretend I do in context of the story. Honestly, paparazzi lines get a little murky for me, even when researching, regardless of the black and white laws because on the one hand, you're not actually allowed to publish pictures of minors without their parent's permission, on the other hand...they do it literally all the time. So ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I tried. Also, it's extremely unlikely they'd end up getting caught anyway. Hollywood has proven time and time again that as much as they bitch about paps, they can get around unseen and they can certainly hide children. Shit, I didn't even know Macklemore had a child until really really recently.
> 
> This was written right as Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out so excuse my blatant Star Wars fangirling from here on out, but shit I surprised myself. I turned fangirling into a character aspect.


	37. "Ugh!" by The 1975

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salem finds Kelsie Klein...sort of. And Charlie smells a PR stunt

**Entertainment Weekly Interview**

**Patrick:** I’m not entirely sure where that rumor came from –

**Hollis:** ( _laughs_ ) Charlie.

**Patrick:** Ah, yeah, okay, that makes sense. What an idiot. I can only imagine Scout and Israel are off somewhere cursing their luck being saddled with him.

**Interviewer:** So there’s not actually a chance that this whole show was actually happening in someone’s head?

**Hollis:** No! Israel, our screenwriter, and Taylor, our producer, would never ever allow it.

**Patrick:** Final script for the show finale went into submission today.

**Hollis:** ( _surprised_ ) Did it?

**Patrick:** ( _nods_ ) It did, and I’ve seen bits and pieces of it.

**Hollis:** ( _outraged_ ) _You_ have?

**Patrick:** ( _smugly_ ) I have. There was no indication that Siobhan, Sienna’s character, was going to wake up in an asylum finding this has all been an elaborate delusion. Don’t listen to Charlie. He’s a bullshitter.

**Interviewer:** ( _shocked_ ) Charlie Beck is a bullshitter?

**Hollis and Patrick:** Yes.

**Interviewer:** Right and what are you all going to do come May when _Ethereal_ finishes? It’s been five years of filming this show. I can imagine it’s going to be a big adjustment.

**Patrick:** ( _looks at Hollis, horrified_ ) Oh my God, I haven’t even thought about it.

**Hollis:** Vacation.

**Patrick:** Well, yeah, but after that?

**Hollis:** Wallow in unemployment?

**Patrick:** ( _nods in agreement_ ) Well, there you go. Hollis McQueen ladies and gentlemen.

 

**realrealethereal**

What are these rumors going around about Patrick Gallagher and Charlie Beck with a baby?

#are these true? #where did they come from? #someone help me

**infochatrick**

They’ve been circulating since Patrick came back to London at the end of June. There’s no pictures. There’s been nothing in the press. It’s probably nothing.

**namethestarschatrick**

I’d just like to point out that even if it IS something if the press hasn’t reported on it, then they’re probably trying to keep the kid out of the public eye and private. We should respect that.

**21greatnoble**

^^^^ exactly

#don’t go digging into this one #but seriously yes to the munchkin

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“You should eat cream spinach, I mean I don’t, it’s gross, but you should because…I…said…so…pizza? With veggies? That’s healthy kind of.”

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Apparently I have an old school approach to therapy that is ‘counter productive’ to the process of healing #idisagree

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ and therapy: “Do you really need to see a therapist about depression and body issues? Just relax, get over, try not to think about it. It’s fine.”

**37**

“Did you find her?”

That was how Patrick greeted both his cousin and Harry Benton-Sterling when they rolled up on set halfway through July.

Charlie was on set with half an eye on Raleigh as he played with a bizarre combination of plastic dinosaurs, _Star Wars_ figurines, a Polly Pocket that Poppy had fished out from her younger years, and Boxcar trucks, giving wordless, imperious direction to the crew members who’d donated their time to him when they didn’t have work to be doing with any immediacy. That, of course, included Israel who’d become Raleigh’s favorite plaything when ze’d agreed to sit while he painted hir face with makeup the three year old had managed to lift from the makeup trailer.

Instead of yelling about it while Miriam, the makeup artist, had a meltdown, Taylor had snapped a picture of the screenwriter and texted it to Scout who’d ruined a whole shot all by himself when he’d done a spit-take and collapsed with ringing, boisterous laughter off screen.

Mahon and Aisha stood on either side of Charlie, nodding profusely at whatever Scout was telling them.

Dexter sat on the edge of the buffet table beside Patrick, swinging his legs happily as he nibbled on an orange and finger-waved at Harry and Shannon in greeting.

Harry eyed the pair of the dispassionately, shifting the Aviators covering his eyes to the top of his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. Shannon glanced at him, raised her eyebrows, and plucked an apple off the table, not noticing Penney Dear come up behind her dressed like a warrior Unseelie queen. She pointed at Shannon quizzically, and Patrick shrugged as Dexter hopped off the table and inclined his head, the pair of the walking away.

Shannon blinked, eyes wide as she tracked Penney Dear’s exit with Dexter. She turned to Patrick with a starstruck expression. “That was Penney Dear.”

Patrick nodded sagely, and Harry sighed with exasperation and cuffed her on the back of the head. “What did I say about the celebrity worship thing?”

“I need to squash it.”

“Then why would you even say that in front of me?” Harry inquired, raising his eyebrows.

Shannon flushed, and Patrick chose to keep his mouth shut and let his cousin work out her own issues with her employer. Clearing her throat, Shannon spotted Raleigh and murmured, “I’m going to say hello to the munchkin.”

Harry nodded, “Seems wise.” Shannon flitted off, cheeks blazing red before he turned his gaze towards Patrick. “Right. Kelsie Klein. We haven’t officially gotten her, but Salem managed to finagle his way into her accounts to see if she could be tracked electronically.”

“The police tried that,” Patrick started when Harry’s look froze him in place. Carefully, he hedged, “So…Salem found something?”

“Have you met Salem? Of course he _found_ something. The police probably did find this, but they’re looking for her for different reasons and might no have thought it was relevant Kelsie is in close to £20,000 of credit card debt.” Patrick choked on his coffee, and Harry nodded with mild disbelief. “She’s been unemployed for the last two _years_ and collecting a Jobseeker’s Allowance in all that time. Yet she hasn’t had electric, gas, or water in the last four months at least.”

Patrick winced as his eyes went to Raleigh. Raleigh who, no matter the temperature, always had on a hoodie, coat, or jumper. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously as he looked back to Harry. The publicist had fallen silent while Patrick processed.

“Right since February, when she officially had all her utilities shut off because she couldn’t pay, she started taking out £200 out of her bank account in cash at the tail end of every week. When Salem couldn’t find a withdrawal that coincided with her, he checked her ex-boyfriend’s and found ones that matched up there. Salem thinks she fled with close to £3200 in cash. The reason the police couldn’t track her was because she bought her plane ticket with her _boyfriend_ ’s credit card.”

Narrowing his eyes, Patrick scowled, “That son of bitch said he didn’t know where she was.”

Harry shrugged, “Don’t think he _does_. Not until he gets his bank statement.”

“So where is she?”

“Berlin,” Harry replied shortly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, I guess. Kelsie didn’t keep in contact with her family, but her late stepfather moved back to Berlin when he remarried and started a new family. She does have somewhere to go.”

“So what next then?” Patrick asked quietly, know that as much as he wanted to he couldn’t just hop on the next available flight to Berlin to chase down his son’s mother and scream at her about what she’d put Raleigh through.

“For _you_? Nothing,” Harry told him pointedly, the gleam in his eye saying that he knew _exactly_ what Patrick wanted to be doing and he didn’t approve at all. Fair enough really, Harry was still technically consulting on this mess for his management, which meant any drama Patrick stirred up would be Harry’s shit to clean up. Patrick respected (and feared) Harry enough to keep his head down and nose clean, especially when his blowback didn’t just hit Harry and Raleigh but Charlie as well. “Brandon and Alexander already hopped on a flight to Berlin to…compel Kelsie either into reason or into coming back.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve informed the police?” Patrick inquired wryly.

Harry studied him carefully before saying, “How about you don’t worry about what I have or haven’t done. It’s not really your _job_ , in any case.”

Patrick grimaced and nodded, recognizing that for the dismissive slap that it was. Finishing his coffee, Patrick tossed the cardboard cup into the bin and frowned at Harry. “Anything else I need to know?”

“You? No. Your boyfriend? Yes.” Harry deadpanned, his eyes following the action on set as Charlie stood beside Mahon and had a heated conversation with Aisha in front of the camera. Raleigh, it seemed, had stopped playing, abandoning his toys behind him as he gripped Scout’s leg and peered around him to watch them act with wide-eyed curiosity. Patrick’s lips curved up into a soft smile, and Harry cleared his throat, drawing back his attention effortlessly. “How’s therapy going?”

_And here comes the scowl again._

Eyebrows rising at Patrick’s expression, Harry barked out a short, harsh laugh. “Problem with the doctor? He comes highly recommended.”

“No,” he scowled.

“Oh,” Harry drawled, “you’re old-fashioned then, I take it. Shouldn’t surprise me, really.”

“Except it _does_ ,” Patrick pointed out sourly.

Harry shrugged, unconcerned about Patrick’s ire. “What do you think then? People should work it on their own, manage their own issues as best they’re able? Make do with what they’ve got?”

“You don’t need to make it sound so ridiculous,” he pouted.

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me or you?” Harry chirped back, plucking a cube of cheese off the tabletop and popping it into his mouth while Patrick watched him with a scowl. “Ignoring how that wouldn’t even work for grown adults, let’s talk about how unlikely it is that your three year old is just going to magically be okay through the power of hard won endurance and sheer determination. Because that kid has one lever, and it’s perpetually placed on ‘survive’. He didn’t eat in front of people because he was afraid they’d snatch it away or hurt him so he refused to give them the chance. He always wears jackets because he’s afraid of being cold. He won’t talk, probably because he learned it was smarter _not_ to. The kid’s a survivor, great, but survivors are _always_ broken because they had to sacrifice parts of themselves to remain safe. This isn’t about you. This is about Raleigh.”

Sighing, Patrick nodded in defeat. “You sound like Charlie.”

“He would know,” Harry pointed out unnecessarily.

Patrick didn’t even bother to negate that. Charlie had his own set of issues that he wore like armor and hid behind charming smiles and forced flirtations that everyone – male or female, straight or gay – fell victim to. He’d never gone to therapy because that would have undoubtedly made headlines, and when Patrick, in the midst of their fight about sending Raleigh to one, had demanded to know why, if Charlie thought it was so important, he didn’t go now. Charlie had stilled and given Patrick a sad smile before telling him genuinely, “My issues are a part of me now. Therapy at this stage of my life isn’t going to make them go away.”

He’d exiled himself to the sofa that night and made Banana’s Foster French Toast as an apology to Charlie in the morning. It had helped when Raleigh had licked the plate clean with a bright smile.

“Has he spoken yet?”

Harry’s eye remained on Raleigh who’d been picked up by Scout and settled on his hip as Raleigh watched them fight with a rapt expression on his face, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ of surprise as he hands clenched in Scout’s shirt.

“No,” Patrick admitted with a sigh.

Harry turned to Patrick, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Not even with the therapist?”

“Raleigh draws him pictures to communicate.”

“Gained your talent for art then, has he?” Harry asked wryly.

Patrick balked, “How do you know…?”

“I have a policy when I sign on clients, even temporary ones,” he stated candidly. “No secrets. I don’t like surprises when I’m dealing with things that are already fucking complicated enough as it is. Personally, I don’t care if they’re fucking they’re brother’s wife or doing enough heroin to kill a small elephant, I just need to know. Your manager handed over the information about you illustrating and co-writing the manga series with Kimura Michi without much a fight. It was like pulling teeth, though, for him to spill about Torin Cadogan from Bittersweet Surrender.”

His face went red as his eyes drifted to the sky.

Who even _was_ this guy?

Patrick and Michi’s manga venture hadn’t been intended to be this big secret, especially since it had started before Patrick had even officially met Michi or Salem in person. There’d been a series of email exchanges between them when Michi had sent his art email to Charlie instead of Salem, and Patrick had responded with critiques on both his storyline and the art. A month of back and forth had produced their first volume of _Jikogu No Kami_ , and they’d mutually agreed to keep both of their names out of it to let the manga stand on its own.

It had to.

Michi and Patrick had proudly fangirled over Skype the first time Patrick had seen people cosplaying as their eclectic cast of characters at Dragon Con.

“Here comes your boy,” Harry pointed out.

A smile came to Patrick’s lips as he asked, “Which one?”

Harry tossed him an eye roll and deigned not to answer that question, mostly for the proud, smug tone, Patrick assumed, than out of any real slight. The question was answered when a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around his waist as Charlie plastered himself to Patrick’s back. He pressed a kiss to the back of Patrick’s neck, making his smile widen as Li Min shot them a furious glare, Aisha snapped a picture, and Harry sighed exasperatedly and popped another cheese cube in his mouth acting like it was an oral stress ball instead of a square dairy product.

Running his fingers along Charlie’s arm and leaning back into the touch, Patrick peered at Charlie over his shoulder with a bright smile that Charlie returned softly. He surged up to peck Patrick’s cheek, making him laugh as he turned back to Harry, and Charlie hooked his chin over Patrick’s shoulder, managing to press even tighter against him as he hummed contentedly. He waved at Harry who rolled his eyes at the pair of them and shook his head but managed _not_ to convey the same bone-deep disapproval as Li Min.

“Did you know we’re filming at Eilean Donan in Scotland again?” Charlie inquired quietly. Patrick shivered as his lips curved into a smile, and Charlie ducked his head and pressed his lips against Patrick’s neck in an attempt to hide his own as he pinched Patrick’s side pointedly. “We need to get some ID for the munchkin.”

“You don’t need a passport to go from London to Scotland,” Patrick pointed out.

“Depends on the transportation,” Charlie and Harry said at once, glancing at each other with raised eyebrows and bemused expressions before Charlie continued. “Besides, I’d be more comfortable with it.”

And, okay, Patrick could understand that.

“Are you going to change his surname?” Harry asked suddenly.

Charlie pursed his lips and cocked his head, eyes darting to Patrick as he waited for an answer. Patrick tensed as he looked over at Charlie who didn’t seem at all concerned about whether or not they would. That was a problem for Patrick. He’d known since he’d emotionally adopted Raleigh into his life that he wanted to change his surname, but that Charlie hadn’t broached the subject, hadn’t asked, had assumed it was Patrick’s decision at all made Patrick uneasy.

They’d talked – not much but they _had_ talked – about where they stood as parental figures, and Patrick had told Charlie that he wanted them to be in this together. He just didn’t think Charlie understood that that meant he was allowed to have opinions on topics like that. Charlie seemed wildly uncertain about his place in their bizarre little family unit, and that had to be rectified…but probably not here and now.

“Probably…?” Patrick met Charlie’s gaze, and his sapphire eyes dropped as he shrugged. Squeezing the forearm still wrapped around his waist, Patrick said, “We haven’t really talked about it, but I wouldn’t be averse to it.”

Harry nodded, “You should probably talk to your solicitor about that.” He nodded at Charlie as they all knew who had the better team of lawyers at their disposal, and Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “But in the interim, I’d recommend applying for a passport. You should be able to get one despite Kelsie, as far as I know, unless she’s put in an objection with the passport office saying he shouldn’t be allowed one. I doubt it. Try it. You’re on his birth certificate so that should be fine. We’ll deal with a custody order when we get in touch with Kelsie that will eliminate this problem.”

“I want her to forfeit her rights, and I’m willing to take her to court over it.”

Charlie startled and peered up at Patrick with surprise but no obvious signs of disagreement. Harry crooked an eyebrow as Shannon sidled up with Raleigh on her hip, tugging at her red hair insistently. Her gaze jumped from Harry to Charlie to Patrick before her eyebrows went up, and she turned her attention back to Raleigh to avoid all the obvious drama flying around the room. Whatever Rosie Ireland had taught her since Shannon had moved in with her fellow redhead and colleague had certainly done wonders for her conflict resolution skills.

“Your manager will be pissed to hear that, but I’ll talk to Kelsie when we find her and see what we can do.”

Charlie raised his eyebrows at that, a calculated, understanding glint in his eye as he said, “You mean blackmail her, right?”

“I’d never _say_ that,” Harry replied succinctly as he turned to Shannon. “Alright new girl, hand over the child and let’s be on our way.” Shannon pouted and started to hand Raleigh over to Patrick when Dexter appeared, swooping the boy out of Shannon’s arms and making him giggle as he held him upside down, his legs thrown over Dexter’s shoulder as he made his way towards where the rest of their cast mates had gathered to talk. Patrick and Charlie exchanged an amused look, and Harry pointed a finger at Charlie who winced. “Stop avoiding me, Charlie Beck. Avoiding my phone calls isn’t going to make this go away.”

“Yeah, okay,” Charlie sighed while Patrick frowned down at him. He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

Patrick resolved to have him talk about it later.

“Also, you’re on air with Irial next month.”

“Who? _Me_?” Charlie gaped.

“Like I said,” Harry remarked, annoyed, “you should answer your phone calls so I can explain things.”

“So you’re setting up a stunt?” He demanded, furiously, stepping out from around Patrick and crossing his arms over his chest.

Patrick looped his arm around waist and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Calm down.”

“Yes,” Harry admitted point-blank, seemingly unconcerned about the aneurysm Charlie was about ten seconds away from developing. Charlie gritted his teeth and shook his head, shortly, jerky, with obvious frustration, his previous good mood up in a puff of smoke. Harry held up a hand before Charlie could argue, and Patrick glanced between them uncomfortably, his hand rubbing Charlie’s side. “Don’t start with me Charlie. I have your management and the studio up my ass about you and Patrick. We’re going to make this work, and I’m going to get you out of this but understand your boyfriend having a kid doesn’t make this easier. It makes it _harder_. Shut up and let me do what I need to do for you, okay?”

Charlie huffed and nodded while Shannon pressed her lips together and met Patrick’s eyes, raising her eyebrows. She stepped towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek before hugging Charlie and whispering quietly in his ear as she rubbed his bicep comfortingly. Charlie offered her a fleeting smile as she stepped back to Harry’s side, and Harry looked between the pair of them, his face softening.

“I’ll be in touch,” was all he said for all the sympathy he had. Harry turned and walked out with Shannon.

“You okay?” Patrick asked Charlie quietly, cupping his face in his hands.

Charlie laughed weakly and rolled his eyes, “I have to be.”

And, yeah, actually, they both did.


	38. "Out of the Woods" by Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salem saves lives and pisses off toddlers.

**Text message from Salem**

**Salem:** Guess who’s back?

 **Charlie:** AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH :D :D :D :D

 **Salem:** When do I get to meet my godson?

 **Charlie:** You dont even like kids

 **Salem:** I’ll like this one.

 **Salem:** Probably.

 **Salem:** He’s half yours so…

 **Charlie:** U and Patty need to go back and redo high school biology

 **Salem:** You didn’t even take high school biology so stfu.

 **Salem:** Bailey agrees with me btw.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Mama_Petrovna <3 thank Katya for me too (your son has a big mouth)

 

**Text message to Shannon**

**Maggie:** Does my brother have a baby?

 **Shannon:** Are you kidding me rn?

 **Maggie:** Does mam know?

 **Shannon:** And I rpt: r u kidding me rn?

 **Maggie:** Shannon! He’s my baby bro.

 **Shannon:** And ur a gossiphungry harpy. That’s been proven

 **Shannon:** Why would u even think I would answer that?

 

**Dorian Speaks Interview**

**Dorian:** So I keep my nose to the grind. Take in all the gossip. Live in the moment.

 **Cherrie:** Is _that_ what you’re doing when you turn into a cross between the inspector from _Madagascar 3_ and a Tumblr-obsessed teenager?

 **Dorian:** Clearly.

 **Cherrie:** Okay, then. If you say so. He’s full of shit Charlie.

 **Dorian:** _Anyway_ , apparently Elena Valence, you know Elena Valence right, yeah?

 **Charlie:** I think everyone knows Elena Valence. She’s like America’s sweetheart, isn’t she? Mixed with some Beyonce vibes.

 **Dorian:** Oooh, listen to her, then?

 **Charlie:** Doesn’t everyone? Don’t _you_?

 **Cherrie:** ( _snickers_ ) Yes he does!

 **Dorian:** Moving on! Oh my God! Elena Valence said in an interview that she’s got quite the crush on you. How do you feel about that?

 **Charlie:** I can’t believe she admitted that on a live interview! I’m over here like ‘I crush/date/sleep with no one and nothing’ but Elena apparently has more self-confidence than me.

 **Dorian:** You like her too then?

 **Charlie:** She’s sweet.

 **Cherrie:** You’ve met? Are you keeping secrets from us, Charlie Beck?

 **Dorian:** We absolutely will not tolerate that kind of thing here.

 **Charlie:** I…yeah…she’s friends with Willamina…Leddy. When I visited Patty in LA over the summer, they introduced us. She’s…nice.

 **Dorian:** And you’re eloquent.

 **Charlie:** Isn’t it time to play a game? Yes? I’m ready to be pied in the face by Larry.

 **Dorian:** Lovely. Wonderful. Subtle topic shift, folks.

* * *

Charlie was nervous.

Actually, he was freaking out.

Actually, he was about fifteen seconds away from a full-blown panic attack.

Snow pressed her nose against the back of his hand, and he released his breath and looked down at his dog, running his fingers through her coat and smiling down at her. They’d picked a sweet dog, but Charlie still felt nervous as fuck.

Patrick appeared in the doorway with Raleigh trailing behind him, his Kylo Ren plushie tucked under one arm as he frowned and clapped his hands together, which at least distracted Charlie enough from his panic to get up and kneel down in front of the little boy. He ran his fingers over the palm of Raleigh’s hands, and the little boy grimaced at the way the pads of Charlie’s fingers stuck to whatever gunk the kid had gotten all over his hands.

A warm washcloth was passed to him as Patrick leaned his hip against the counter. “ _Someone_ decided he wanted to play with his juice instead of drink it.”

Raleigh heaved an exhausted, put-upon sigh and shook his head as he tossed Charlie a commiserating look. Charlie stifled laughter and took the little boy’s hands, cleaning them off with the cloth.        

Fighting a smile, Patrick demanded playfully, “Where did we get you from?”

The boy eyed his father skeptically before deciding to roll his eyes as an appropriate response. Patrick raised his eyebrows, and Charlie tapped his cheek with two fingers, drawing Raleigh’s attention to him. “Hey, you shouldn’t roll your eyes at your dad…even if he is being obstinate.”

“Hey!” Patrick scoffed, and Raleigh giggled, wrapping his arms around his toy and blinking up at Charlie happily. “Don’t encourage.”

“Who’s encouraging?” Charlie returned, tossing the washcloth back to Patrick.

Snow snatched it out of midair air, wagging her tail with joy and nuzzling her head into Raleigh when he squealed with glee and clapped his hands together.

Charlie got to his feet, taking the hand Patrick held out towards him and letting himself be pulled into Patrick’s side. Patrick pressed a kiss to his temple before pecking his lips. “Why are you so nervous?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Patrick corrected Charlie who couldn’t even find it in himself to deny that a second time. He nodded and ran a hand through his hair while Patrick squeezed his hand. “It’s just Salem.”

“Salem _hates_ kids.”

“Yeah, but he _loves_ you.” Patrick pointed out just like Salem had. Charlie sighed and shook his head with frustration that no one seemed to get, and Patrick leaned forward and lowered his voice, eyes darting briefly to Raleigh. “And he’s half yours.”

“No,” Charlie snapped, “he isn’t.”

Patrick froze, and Charlie winced.

He didn’t mean it like that.

He loved Raleigh, really, too much maybe for a kid that he had no connection to beyond his relationship with the kid’s father and no blood relation to. He loved Raleigh like he _was_ half his, but he _wasn’t_. And Charlie needed to start remembering that.

“Yes he is,” Patrick insisted. Charlie gaze whipped towards him, and he opened his mouth, prepared to argue when Patrick shook his head and continued on without waiting for Charlie to disagree. “He _is_ , and I don’t why you’re so afraid to actually be a part of his life, but you don’t need to be. You’re the first person he trusted, and I’m not oblivious. You’re _still_ his favorite person. That’s fine. I love that, because I love both of you and I love that the two of you love each other. What do you think I want out of you, Charlie? Really? Because if all you want is to be here without any strings attached, I’m not gonna pretend that wouldn’t hurt, but I’d be okay with it if that’s what you wanted, if that’s _all_ you wanted, but I don’t think it is. Maybe I haven’t been clear enough. When we work out everything with Kelsie, I want you to be on his custody papers. I want you to make decisions with me about his life and his future, because we’re a team, you’re my partner, and he’s _our_ son. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Charlie gaped at Patrick, aware of the tears that had started to spill from his eyes. Patrick smiled up lovingly at him and gently wiped them away.

“Even Salem knows that,” Patrick whispered.

A laugh bubbled up, and Charlie shook his head and let Patrick pull him into a tight hug as Charlie sobbed quietly into his collarbone, his hands clutching at the fabric of Patrick’s Manchester United t-shirt. Raleigh bowled into their legs, wrapping his arm around Charlie and Patrick’s calves and peering up at them with a wide smile that had Charlie laughing.

Patrick pressed a kiss to his temple and whispered in his ear, “It’s you and me, Chaz. You and me and munchkin. I want you to be as much his parent as I am, okay?” Charlie hesitated as he looked at Patrick searchingly, and Patrick grasped the back of his neck in hand. “Okay, Chazza?”

“Okay Patty,” Charlie acquiesced, and Patrick beamed, giving Charlie a lingering kiss on the lips that had him blushing.

Patrick’s gaze flickered down to Raleigh who blinked up at them innocently. “We need to go, munchkin. We’re going to be late for the football game, because papa’s clearly having a breakdown.” Raleigh nodded sagely, and Charlie swatted at Patrick who danced away, sweeping Raleigh up into his arms.

* * *

 “Oh my God, look who showed up all cute and matchy and shit,” Salem drawled from where he lounged on the seat next to Izumi, the pair of them managing to look like a walking fashion disaster.

Izumi had come in mismatch socks, platform trainers, a lacy tutu, and baggy Care Bears t-shirt, but even her Harajuku style seemed less out of place than Salem’s grunge-rocker attire that Tasha had seemed convinced was just as phase until it had persisted into his professional life. Salem had come in his usual brand of quirky: Bailey’s jersey, a pair of skeleton skinny jeans, a pair of skeleton slip-on trainers, and acid green hair tied up in a bun on the top of his head. His nails were painted black, and every one of his piercings seemed to be on full display as was his tattoo sleeve.

Clearly, his time in Tokyo had left him blind as well as successful since Raleigh, Charlie, and Patrick in no way matched.

Patrick had arrived to an Arsenal home game in his Man-U shirt and a pair of black jeans. Charlie had won the war with Raleigh’s ensemble and convinced him to pull on a long-sleeved shirt under his tiny Arsenal jersey and grey Armani jeans that paired well with his Gallucci suede Chelsea boots and Gucci fedora. Patrick had sighed, but Raleigh – God bless that child – had preened in the mirror for a solid ten minutes.

Charlie hadn’t even tried to get football ready; at least Salem had shown up in his boyfriend’s jersey. No, Charlie had pulled on maroon Sandro Henley, a pair of destroyed DSquared2 jeans, and a pair of Giuseppe Zannotti python print high top trainers. Patrick had taken one look at him and clapped proudly at his attempt at casual…Charlie had responded by pulling on a Versace medallion necklace, an Alexander McQueen leather skull bracelet, and a number of rings that had left Patrick shaking his head and muttering that it was a miracle Charlie had never been mugged.

It wasn’t a miracle; actually, he had excellent security and posh taste.

Raleigh hid his face in Charlie neck as Patrick greeted Salem warmly, his eyes going to Izumi and rising. Salem nodded, “Patty, this is my and Michi’s younger sister, Izumi. Izumi, this is Charlie’s boyfriend and Michi’s writing partner, Patrick Gallagher.”

Izumi bowed slightly before taking Patrick’s hand, “Hello.”

“ _Konnichiwa_ ,” Patrick greeted, making her smile widen.

“You know Japanese?”

“A little,” he demurred.

Charlie snorted, and Salem tossed Patrick a disbelieving look as he turned to his younger sister. “He’s nearly fluently verbally, and _beyond_ fluent in writing. He writes prettier prose in kanji than I do.”

Izumi gave Salem a challenging look. “That’s not hard.”

“I will actually beat you,” Salem returned while she snorted and shook her head. Turning to focus on Raleigh, Salem narrowed his eyes thoughtfully on the little boy clinging onto Charlie like he was terrified Salem would try to take him away and smiled slightly as his eyes met Charlie’s. “This my godson, then?”

Charlie huffed, and Patrick laughed, not disagreeing with Salem’s assessment, which would be heartwarming any other day but certainly wasn’t currently doing anything to ease Raleigh’s nerves.

He looked down at Raleigh and poked him until his hazel eyes darted up to meet Charlie’s. “Hey munchkin,” Raleigh pressed his lips together in a hard line and shot a purposeful glance at Salem. “This is my best friend, Salem, and his sister, Izumi. I’ve known them a long time, and I promise they’re not taking you anywhere. Can you say hi to Uncle Salem?”

Raleigh glanced over at Salem and waved weakly.

Salem, deciding to forgo niceties, reached out to pluck Raleigh from Charlie’s arms before the boy could put up protest. Patrick’s eyes went wide, and Charlie startled.

“You have a Kylo Ren stuffed…animal? Man? Awesome. Nice to see that you have solid taste in Siths. Darth Vader was cool, I’ll admit, but Kylo Ren can do all kinds of crazy sh…stuff with the Force that no one else could do. Also, the prequel trilogy completely ruined Darth Vader for me. It’s hard to reconcile whiny, bratty Anakin Skywalker with badass, throat hugging Darth Vader, you know? Darth Sidious was just…meh. Dooku absolutely does not count. Darth Maul, dearly departed, was gone from the movie-verse too soon.”

Instead of crying or freaking out, Raleigh stared in shock at Salem before snuggling up against Kylo Ren and beaming up at Salem brightly and adoringly.

Izumi rolled her eyes at her brother while Charlie and Patrick let out twin exhales of relief and shared bemusement at how quickly and easily Salem had won over their son. It shouldn’t have been _that_ big of a surprise. Salem’s group of friends, acquaintances, and contacts would make anyone in the industry jealous, but he rarely ever used them. Rarely ever _had_ to. People loved him freely enough and fast enough that most people would give him what he wanted without too much protest.

“I can’t believe you _actually_ think Kylo Ren is better than Darth Vader,” Izumi scoffed.

Salem glared at her and crooked an eyebrow at Raleigh. “She’s crazy,” he told Raleigh who nodded in silent agreement. Salem glanced over at his sister before telling Raleigh, “She’s just a hater because Kylo Ren killed…”

Izumi covered her ears and shook her head, “Stop! It never happened!”

“If you say so,” Salem rolled his eyes before raising his eyebrows at Patrick and Charlie. “He’s not made of china. Maybe that’s your problem.”

Patrick scowled at Salem while Charlie rolled his eyes and dropped down into his seat, stealing the beer out of Patrick’s hand and beaming at him brightly as he downed at least half the bottle. With one last lingering look at Salem and Raleigh, Patrick sat beside Charlie and rested his hand on his knee. Charlie smiled sweetly at him, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

“Do you speak?”

They both whirled their heads around towards Salem and Raleigh in alarm at what seemed an innocent enough question.

Raleigh tentatively shook his head, eyes darting to Charlie and Patrick quickly before focusing back on Salem as he nodded.

“That’s good. Children should be seen and not heard anyway.”

Charlie choked on the beer, and Patrick patted his back as he glared at Salem.

Izumi’s eyebrows rose as she took a long swallow of her coke and shook her head, looking like she wished she could disappear into her seat.

Raleigh’s eyebrows furrowed as he gave Salem a hard stare.

“What? You don’t think so?”

Raleigh shook his head, and Patrick squeezed Charlie’s knee so hard that it would leave bruises. Charlie entwined their fingers and shook his head at Patrick. Whatever bullshit Salem was talking undoubtedly came with a reason attached to it.

“Well who cares what you think anyway? Like I said: seen not heard. I don’t have to listen to you. That’s the beauty of you being quiet; you haven’t _said_ anything worth listening to anyway.”

Charlie could see Raleigh fuming, his hands clenching into fists on his plushie as Salem turned his attention back to the pitch, a smile curving up his lips. Raleigh tapped him to get his attention, but Salem didn’t turn to glance at him. Patrick inhaled sharply, and Raleigh huffed, prodding Salem again, more profusely only to be ignored again. Charlie clenched tightly onto Patrick’s hand and gaped as Raleigh’s attempts to get Salem’s attention grew more pointedly and more frantic.

When Patrick made a move towards them, Salem pinned him with a warning look so fast at Patrick startled and Charlie pulled him down.

“Look at _me_!”

Patrick and Charlie startled as the words tumbled out of the boy’s mouth breathless and laced with frustration.

Salem’s head whipped around to focus on Raleigh whose cheeks went red even as his chin tipped up defiantly. Charlie felt his eyes well with tears as he looked at Patrick in disbelief, and Patrick met his gaze with eyes suspiciously wet as he hugged Charlie tightly, clutching him against his body.

It, perhaps, was for the best Raleigh’s first words were directed at Salem since Charlie and Patrick had devolved into happy tears, and Salem only watched Raleigh steadily. “You want something Raleigh?”

Raleigh pursed his lips, hesitating, and Salem started to turn back towards the field until Raleigh finally blurted, “Yes.”

“What do you need then?”

Frowning and his eyebrows drawing together, Raleigh contemplated the question, unconcerned his parents were staring at him like he was a miracle. Izumi rolled her eyes at them and leaned over to snap a picture of them, and instead of glaring at her, they simply continued to stare at Raleigh proudly.

“Thirsty,” he stated haltingly, nodding once as his eyes went to Salem’s.

Salem shrugged and nodded, “Why don’t you ask your parents about that. All I have is beer, and you’re too young for that.”

“Why I too small?” Raleigh huffed, and Salem laughed and shrugged again. Sighing tiredly, Raleigh rested his chin on Salem’s shoulder and peered at Charlie and Patrick, blinking at them in surprise. He turned to Salem and poked his cheek. “Why dada papa cry? No cry! I bad? No more talk.”

“No!” Patrick and Charlie started, wiping each other’s cheeks quickly as Charlie reached down into the messenger bag they’d brought for Raleigh’s cup of juice.

Salem shook his head, “They’re weird. All adults are weird.”

“You?” Raleigh giggled.

Salem nodded profusely, taking Raleigh’s cup form Charlie’s hand without looking at him. He offered it to Raleigh who beamed and took it, slanting Salem a pointed look. “Definitely me too.”

Raleigh pressed his lips together and nodded seriously. “I be weird too?”

“You already are!” Salem exclaimed, tugging on the brim of Raleigh’s hat. “You have a fedora.”

Gasping, Raleigh put a hand to his hat, forgetting his hold on his stuffed toy in the shuffle. Salem caught it with one hand and smirked at Raleigh who glared at him. “Nice hat.”

“If you say so.”

Raleigh huffed and threw a glance over at Charlie and Patrick, draping himself over Salem as he expressed, “Uncle Sale no fash. Bad. I fix.”

Salem burst out laughing while Izumi nodded in agreement. Charlie leaned into Patrick as his arm went around his shoulder, the pair of them smiling brightly up at the little boy. Patrick pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple as Charlie nodded through his tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Raleigh's been with them for almost a month at this point, and I'll admit I have mixed feelings with chapter. I mean he's three, and while there are definitely trust issues there, he's also three and less inclined to hold on to any immediate and intense distrust than if he was older and had lived with neglect longer. On the other hand, I hadn't actually intended to write this scene. One minute Salem was looking at the kid and the next he was like 'kids should be seen not heard' and the next I was sitting there going 'okay but like Raleigh has to respond.' Anyway I think Salem and Raleigh might be my favorite friendship in this novel. They're just adorable. I can't.


	39. "Give It All To Me" by Mavado ft. Nicki Minaj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Extended) family day featuring an unwelcome arrival

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@Salem_Daiki it’s nice to know someone appreciates my taste

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@ArthurBailey a child supporting your obsession with British fashion designers does not make you fashionable

 

**Charles Beck (@Charlie_Beck)**

@Salem_Daiki @ArthurBailey no, being fashionable makes him fashionable #funnythat

 

**A new romance brewing for Elena Valence?**

One of America’s favorite popstars is about to cross the Atlantic to film her music video, start her break, and later kick off her Europe concert dates in London, but also, maybe, to get her man? Valence timidly announced her celebrity crush as English actor, Charlie Beck, on air with Ryan Seacrest and later confirmed she’s nursing a serious interest in him when asked by Entertainment Tonight. On Radio 1’s Dorian Speaks, Beck told Dorian and Cherrie he thought Valence was ‘sweet’ and ‘nice’ after being introduced to her in LA earlier this summer by best friend and _Ethereal_ costar, Patrick Gallagher and continuing on to say, “I can’t believe she admitted that on a live interview! I’m over here like ‘I crush/date/sleep with no one and nothing’ but Elena apparently has more self-confidence than me.” Since she’ll be spending her break between concert legs in the UK no one will be surprised if she makes the actor’s acquaintance. We, for one, can’t wait to see this two in action.

 

**Text message from Mum**

**Mum:** Poppy AND Salem got to meet him????

**Charlie:** Can we not do this rn?

**Mum:** I’m going over your head

**Charlie:**???

 

**Text message from Libby**

**Libby:** Has everyone met him except me?

**Patrick:** Lmao. Define ‘everyone’ Libby.

**Libby:** I want to meet him!

**Patrick:** What did Chaz say?

**Libby:** He didnt want to do this rn…

**Patrick:** Sigh. Sunday roast?

**Libby:** At yours?

**Patrick:** At yours. I think we need to take him out of his comfort zone.

**Libby:** And I have horses.

**Patrick:** …well yeah…

 

To: somecallmejarek@gmail.com

From: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Sunday Roast

I have no idea where you are or what either you or Lorraine (or Kaja) are up to, but I just wanted to let you know that we’re having a Sunday Roast (family style I guess) on August 25th to introduce everyone to Raleigh, Patrick’s son. I wanted to extend an invite for you and Lorraine and Kaja if any of you are around.

Charlie

* * *

Raleigh’s high-pitched giggle reached Patrick all the way across the grounds, and he turned and pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, crooking his eyebrow at the sight of Raleigh sitting in front of Charlie as he, Bailey, and Poppy raced their respective horses out from the trail and over towards the interior courtyard.

Vincent shook his head with a bemused expression, reaching out to hold onto Apollo’s bridle and steady him. The horse tossed his head and stomped his hoof, blowing through his lips as Raleigh tried to wrap his arms around as much of Apollo’s neck as he could reach. Fitz held Snow back as she barked excitedly, drawing a wide smile from Raleigh as Charlie dismounted smoothly and helping Raleigh down from the saddle and into Bailey’s waiting arms.

“Uncle Bay!” Raleigh laughed, banging the palm of his hands on Bailey’s back as he was tossed over his shoulder and brought over to Libby who waited at the fence with a bright smile on her face. “Gamma!”

Despite Charlie’s evident worry, Raleigh had taken to Libby without reservations, though, admittedly, there had been a bribe from her in the form of a sugar cookie. Fitz had stood behind her and shook his head profusely, and neither Patrick nor Charlie had had time to pluck the cookie out of his fingers. Libby couldn’t bake to save her life, but Raleigh had been enchanted anyway and spent an hour gnawing on it until Charlie had gently pried it away and tossed it to Snow who’d stared at it with a condescending, unbelieving look. Even the dog had no plans to eat Libby’s baking any time soon.

“I ride horse with papa,” he chattered on to Libby who smiled at him and pressed her nose against his cheek. He patted Libby’s cheek adoringly. “You see? I ride good. I ride again?”

Libby laughed and nodded, stroking her head over Raleigh’s head as she walked him towards the house. “Yes, you can come ride again at grandma’s anytime. I’ll make sure that your daddy and papa bring you over to have some lessons so you can ride all by yourself, would you like that?”

Nodding profusely and with a wide smile, Raleigh wrapped an arm Libby’s neck and looked down at Snow trailing them.

Patrick sauntered up to the fence with a bemused expression on his face as he rested on the bottom wrung and looked over at Charlie who’d tied Apollo to untack him. He met Patrick’s eye with an amused look on his face, patting Apollo’s neck as he came over and stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Patrick’s lips.

“Ew!” Poppy squealed, peeking out from under the neck of her palomino Morgan horse, the girth thrown over her shoulder.

Bailey shot her an amused look as he shook his head and pointed a finger at the pair of them. “If he knew getting your heads out of your asses would lead to so much snogging, I don’t think he’d have pushed it so hard.”

“No, I would not have,” Salem said playfully, starling Patrick as he appeared beside him with a wide smile. Laughing, Salem slung an arm over Patrick’s neck as he leered at Bailey in an exaggerated way that had the footballer rolling his eyes and stifling a smile as he turned back to Wichapi.

“Lies!” Charlie called out as he handed one of the stablehands his tack, picking up the hard-brush and raking it over the coarse fur of Apollo’s back and barrel.

Salem smirked and nodded, “Okay, yes, I lied. I would never put myself or our friends through the horrifying pining, you know?”

Poppy sat up against the railing and nodded as she pulled on her hair to tighten the ponytail, “I know.”

Patrick pointed a finger at her, and she smirked at him. “You. Zip it.”

Charlie tossed him a bemused look as Bailey finished up with his mare, climbing over the railing and swinging over to land on the other side of Patrick, catching Poppy without question.

Beating his hands against the wood as the stablehands tugged the horses away, Patrick grinned at Charlie who raised his eyebrows on the other side of the fence. “I’m ready.”

A wicked smile flickered across Charlie’s face, and Poppy leaned against Bailey, “Oh no.”

“Oh _yes_ ,” Charlie purred, pointing a finger at Patrick as he climbed onto the bottom wrung. He leaned over to give Patrick a long, dirty kiss as he whispered into his mouth, “Turn around.”

Salem backed away and gave them a skeptical look as Patrick laughed and turned. “Aren’t you too a little old to be doing this?”

“Look,” Patrick said, tensing as he felt Charlie grasp his shoulder in a tight grip. “I only just turned twenty-five, okay? I demand at least another five years before being called old, Konstantin.”

Bailey narrowed his eyes on Patrick and raised his eyebrows challengingly, and Patrick gave him a nervous smile, the breath whooshing out of him as Charlie jumped onto his back and wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist. He caught him effortlessly, taking a moment for them to steady themselves as Charlie wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Poppy clutched Bailey’s arm, terrified, while Bailey watched them with a fascinated sort of horror. “That looks really unsafe.”

“Israel will be pissed if you two break bones being idiots,” Salem pointed out.

“How would _you_ know?” Patrick inquired.

Salem gave him a long look that managed to be a scolding and an eye roll without him rolling his eyes. Patrick cleared his throat and turned his head towards Charlie as his boyfriend snickered and mouthed at his neck, nipping the skin there. He tossed Charlie a warning look as much as he could, and Salem glanced between them with a long-suffering sigh.

“Are you horny idiots in need of some time to yourself? Baby boy killing your sex life?”

Charlie huffed out a laugh and rested his chin on his arm as Patrick blushed. Patrick only saw the lecherous smile that Charlie shot at Salem out of the periphery of his vision as he mentally cursed the human expanse of field between the stables and the house.

“It’s lovely of you to be so worried for me,” Charlie fluttered his lashes. Bailey looked over, his eyes moving between Charlie and Salem with a bemused expression as he and Poppy strolled towards the house arm in arm. “But, actually, my sex life is phenomenal.”

Salem stifled a smile as Patrick felt his face grow redder.

Their sex life hadn’t suffered nearly as much as their sexual spontaneity had. If anything, they’d somehow managed to ascend to a new plane of sexual satisfaction now that they had a solid period of the day where they absolutely could _not_ , and several places that they probably _should_ not…which didn’t mean that they _didn’t_.

Breaks on set where Raleigh was surrounded by people he liked, trusted, and could be entertained had somehow turned into blowjobs in empty rooms and handjobs in the depths of the wardrobe department. More than once, Charlie had gotten carried away and convinced Patrick to fuck him on the chaise in the back behind racks and racks of costumes, not even stopping when Miriam and Jonah had wandered in having a heated conversation about the lead hair stylist, Daniela’s inability to produce time-period appropriate plaits. They’d gaped and slowly backed away, and Patrick had been unable to look at them without stuttered, blushing, and apologizing half-heartedly for a week.

They’d learned to lock the doors at home after the first half dozen times Raleigh had wandered in their rooms in the early hours of morning or late at night when he got particularly restless. A couple times they’d tried simply moving rooms but found Snow sitting in the doorway of the living room watching Patrick ride Charlie in the middle of the living room while Charlie keened from the sensation of Patrick’s tight heat wrapped around his dick while a jeweled, vibrating buttplug worked over his prostate. That had been followed of a good long awkward silence when Raleigh had spared them a puzzled glance as he made his way from the kitchen back to the stairs with a cup of water he carefully balanced as he called Snow to follow him.

The easiest way to solve most of their overactive libidos had been to perfect their ability to have sex in the shower. The second technique consisted of a locked door that managed to hold Raleigh off long enough if he needed company, even if it did mean leaving him banging on the door with huffs and sighs as either they got their shit together and hard-ons under control or climaxed quickly.

All in all, Patrick supposed they were just as active only more creative about their clandestine activities, but God help them, they’d definitely be getting sex questions earlier than most parents did with the amount of times Raleigh had caught – or _nearly_ – caught them.

Charlie and Patrick had decided they could live with that more than the absence of sex.

“TMI!” Poppy called as she shouldered open the door and rushed in the house, reaching out to tug Salem after her, well aware that Bailey wouldn’t race through the kitchen to amuse her.

Laughing, Salem chased after her, catching her around the waist. She squealed.

Bailey shook his head and plucked a banana out of a fruit bowl, watching with amusement as Charlie awkwardly jumped to the floor. He shook his head as Charlie gave a dimpled grin. “You,” he pointed at Charlie, “need to go to Core Strengthening classes again.”

Charlie pouted, “I can’t. It conflicts with the yoga class that Raleigh comes to with me.”

“You’re _that_ couple,” Bailey scoffed with a smile as he shook his head at them.

Patrick slanted Charlie a teasing look. “What the hell is he talking about, Sunshine?”

“Nothing at all, Pattycake,” Charlie replied lightly, throwing an arm around Patrick’s neck as Patrick’s snaked around his hips, pressing a kiss to each other’s lips for show. “He’s just jealous Salem won’t go to Spin class with him.”

“You’re as bad as each other, honestly,” Bailey retorted, throwing up his hands and stalking out of the room as he tried to hide his smile.

Charlie laughed and pushed against Patrick’s chest and out of his arms. Patrick caught his hands and tugged him closer, reaching up to cup his hand with one hand. He pressed his thumb into the groove of Charlie’s dimple before giving him a lingering kiss.

Someone clapped their hands together, and they jerked away to find Fitz giving them a long-suffering look. “Let’s move it, kids, before Libby steals your son. I’m done raising children, thanks.” He picked up a bowl of pretzels and gave them a pointed look as he turned to walk back to the living room.

Patrick raised his eyebrows while Charlie asked the question running through his mind: “When did _you_ raised children, Fitzroy?”

Fitz’s only response was a loud laugh. Charlie glanced at Patrick and rolled his eyes before tugging him out of the kitchen towards the living room where they had a clear view even before walking in of Raleigh sprawled across Salem and Bailey’s laps while Poppy argued with Libby about what to put on television. Snow had curled up in the far corner to watch everyone with the weighted, cautious look she’d taken to displaying whenever someone touched Raleigh.

The doorbell rang, and Charlie stilled, squeezing Patrick’s hand as he called out for his mother’s sake, “I’ll get it!”

“Good, as _I_ hadn’t been planning on it, Charlie,” Libby remarked.

“Cold,” Patrick said, and Libby tilted back her head with give him a wry smile.

He leaned against the wall and watched Charlie open the door, his dispassionate greeting turning into gleeful surprise as he threw it open wider and into the thin, bony arms of a woman who appeared at least his mother’s age and flanked by two people.

Charlie glanced over at them with a wide, bright smile and waved him over, lacing their fingers together as he reached Charlie’s side.

“Kaja, this is my partner, Patrick Gallagher. Patty, this is my mum’s best friend and my former…stepmother? Kind of?” Kaja shrugged her shoulders delicately. Charlie waved a dismissive hand. “Kaja Brzezicki. She was a model and Jarek’s mum.”

“I’m _still_ Jarek’s mum, Chaz,” Kaja laughed, her voice lightly accented and musical. She held out a hand, and Patrick shook it not a moment too soon. Libby, having recognized the voice and the accent, cried out joyfully and bounded out of the living room and straight into Kaja’s arms, hugging her tightly. “My God, Libby, you’d think we hadn’t seen each other in years.”

“Haven’t we?” Libby demanded while Patrick blinked at Charlie, wide eyed. Charlie rolled his eyes, and Libby pulled Kaja inside, thwacking Charlie. “Why is she in the threshold, barbaric child? Come meet my first grandbaby, then Kaja.”

Jarek Brzezicki, who Patrick could place from pictures alone, blinked after the two women as he stepped inside with a bemused and beautiful black woman trailing behind him.

While Charlie pulled Jarek into a hug that turned into nearly a dog-pile when Poppy appeared from the living room to hurl herself on top of her brothers, Patrick turned to the woman with an even smile and handshake. “I’m Chaz’s partner, Patrick Gallagher.”

“No shit?” She chuckled and shook her head as she gasped his hand tightly in hers. “I’m Lorraine de Morche,” she said with a hint of an accent he couldn’t quite place. Lorraine seemed to recognize the confusion in his expression. “I’m from Cote d’Ivoire.”

“Northwest-ish Africa! Right, sorry,” Patrick remarked. “And you’re Jarek’s girlfriend, I take it?”

Lorraine cleared her throat awkwardly, “Um…fiancée.”

“What?” Charlie and Poppy exclaimed. Patrick gave them a droll look that they ignored at they turned to Jarek as one wearing twin petulant expressions. Poppy slapped his chest with her hand. “You didn’t tell us that! Fiancée! I’m sorry he’s such a moron, Lorraine. I’m sorry you agreed to be bound to this ball and chain of awful for the rest of your life.”

“It’s a real struggle,” Lorraine teased in her calm, restful voice.

Jarek gaped at her. “Don’t you think that’s enough of that?”

“Enough of what?” Lorraine shot back with raised eyebrows.

Poppy looked sideways at Lorraine and nodded, “I’m liking this one.”

“’This one’ she say,” Jarek frowned. “As opposed to what other one?”

“Exactly, Poppy, don’t over exaggerate Jarek’s meager, sad dating history. We’re supposed to be impressing the fiancée.” Charlie pointed out, and Patrick sniggered while Jarek sighed with exasperation. Lorraine placed a hand over her mouth to stifle giggles as her dark eyes met Jarek’s across the room.

“Come on,” Poppy said, grabbing Lorraine’s hand and tugging her towards the living room while Jarek followed behind. “I need to introduce you to my favorite brother.”

“Oi!” Charlie called out as she smirked over her shoulder, “Rude!”

Patrick frowned as Raleigh darted out of the living room, Snow hot on his heels. He bumped into Poppy who exclaimed, “Whoa, munchkin, where’s the fire?”

Jarek murmured, “Who’s that?”

Patrick caught Raleigh in his arms and frowned at the winded, flushed boy, raising his eyebrows at Charlie who shrugged and reached down to stroke Snow. “I…I…” Raleigh started, exhaling and trying to catch his breath.

“Okay, little man, I think you need to slow down,” Patrick pointed out while Raleigh pouted.

Charlie leaned over as they started towards the living room, tickling Raleigh’s belly and making his laugh. “Can you even breathe? Where’d the oxygen go?”

“Papa! Stop!”

A knock on the door had Patrick’s eyebrows rising as he stilled with Raleigh in arm, and Charlie, still laughing, went to the door and pulled it open. His laughter died abruptly, and Patrick frowned in concern, hurrying up behind him only to find an older version of his boyfriend standing in the doorway putting his shades on the top of his head.

Sapphire eyes went first to Raleigh who reeled back, then to Patrick with a calculated, disdainful gleam, and then to Charlie with a look not much more flattering.

“What’s wrong, Charlie? Nothing to say to your father?”

Well fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I thought a lot about Chaz and Patty's sex life with a child (...that sounds really weird), and I was sitting there going 'how did they hide/get around that' and then realized the answer was not well. They're new to parenting. They're pretty shameless anyway. And Raleigh's fairly oblivious to anything remotely involving sex (ah, I remember those days...they're not as nostalgic now. Can I go back that like as a person?)
> 
> But also...Samuel's here, and his girlfriend came totally out of left field even for me. I had a plan. The plan didn't agree with the story it seemed. That's the next chapter though O.O


	40. "Don't Trust Me" by 3Oh!3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Samuel finally have it out

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Contract finalization

Charlie,

I know how reluctant you are to do this, and what your obvious reservations are for pulling these kinds of stunts when you’re trying to get everything settle with yours and Patrick’s son. However, we have the final contract on the table, and if you manage this we’ll be free and clear within a year. Talk it over with Patrick, obviously, and let me know.

SOON.

Best,

Harold Benton-Sterling

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Being self-sacrificing sucks, and I think we’ve all proved that it’s only gotten us into trouble.

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

@StPatty_ you’re honestly advising selfishness on this?

 

**Dexter Carroll (@DexterCarroll)**

@Mc_QueenHolly he’s bemoaning his own poor decision-making skills. There’s no discussing about this anymore, no negotiation. I’ll make the sacrifice for her.

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ @DexterCarroll @Mc_QueenHolly ya’ll need to find some chill before Taylor has you all executed for #spoileralearts

 

**Text message from Rory**

**Rory:** You need to answer your mother’s calls.

**Patrick:** I really don’t want to discuss this anymore

**Patrick:** I understand she’s pious/shocked/whatever but she shouldn’t have said that to me

**Rory:** It’s been months. Be an adult and talk to your mother

**Patrick:** Its rly none of your business

**Rory:** Your mothers welfare and happiness IS my business esp if what mags implied is true

**Rory:** Patrick?

**Rory:** Patrick Donovan Gallagher!

**Rory:** I’ll fucking call Chaz!

 

**Text message from Lord Vader**

**Lord Vader:** This is my fifth attempt to contact you, Charlie. I’m not amused.

**Charlie:** To be perfectly honest im avoiding u cuz I dont want 2 tlk

**Lord Vader:** Neither does anyone else it seems.

**Charlie:** U didnt honestly expect Jarek to happily accept ur presence did u?

**Lord Vader:** Where is he and his girlfriend, Charlie?

**Charlie:** Fiancee. & they split 2 photograph cocoa farms by the amazon rainforest

**Lord Vader:** And Poppy?

**Charlie:** New York. Working. I don’t want to tlk not abt Raleigh and patty

**Lord Vader:** We dont always get what we want

**Charlie:** Yes we do.

* * *

Charlie crouched on brick wall not far from Abbey Road with extensions plaited in his hair and leather pants molded to his thighs and calves as he tapped a dagger against the mortar in the wall as his locked his gaze on Hollis.

If he looked bizarrely out of place in leather, faux-armed to the teeth, and with what nearly passed as ghastly naturally occurring dreadlocks, then Hollis looked more like a deranged runaway extra from a horror movie. She might be wearing jeans and baggy men’s t-shirt under a half-zipped black hoodie, but it was a shirt doused in fake blood that stained her neck and collarbones, speckled her face, and pasted her hair to her cheeks, forehead, and neck. She had her hands shoved in her pockets as she looked around anxiously.

Really, if they hadn’t been surrounded by film crew, someone would have called the cops already.

“ _Stop_ looking around like that,” Charlie hissed as Hollis’s head whipped around to focus a malevolent glare on him. “You’re covered in blood, Brody. Let’s try not to draw attention.”

Hollis scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest as she tossed him a withering glare. “You’re playing with _dagger_ in broad daylight.”

“Do people not do that here?” He shot back lightly, evenly, and she gave him a disbelieving look.

“I thought you were ancient not senile.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

The cameras moved around them to take in the way Hollis’s face grew red with fury, her hands clenching into fists as Charlie cocked his head and studied her with a disinterested expression… _but in love, Cadeyrn’s frustrated with her because he’s in love with her but she’s an addict, she’ll take advantage…and she hates him at least a little._ Israel’s explanations behind hir character’s complex machinations didn’t at all help him. Half the information he needed to properly convey his characters got emailed to him in notes from hir the evening before they started filming the episode, which resulted in him and Patrick pulling all-nighters like university students, highlighting their scripts, sprawled out across their bed, and exchanging colored sticky notes as they tried to get everything together for the next day’s shooting.

Raleigh had wandered in when they’d been outlining for this particular episode, and he’d stood in the doorway for a solid two minutes scratching his head with one hand and holding Kylo Ren lazily with the other. Snow had nudged him and whined, which had resulted in him climbing over the scripts and array of brightly colored office supplies to settle himself, Kylo Ren, and Snow against the pillows. He’d picked up the remote and started up _Star Wars: The Force Awakens_ without a word.

They’d let it play out, because he’d fallen asleep a half-hour into the movie.

Sighing, Charlie ran a hand through his hair as he studied Hollis’s furious face. “Don’t start.”

Hollis’s mouth pressed together in a hardline, shaking her head furiously. “For fuck’s sake Cadeyrn!”

He shot up and to his feet, sheathing the blade and grabbing Hollis’s arm to pull her against him. Hollis gasped quietly, and Charlie cupped her face with one hand, giving her a feral smile. “Say that a little louder, Brody, like we don’t have the whole fucking Guard at our goddamned necks because _you_ got a little bloodthirsty.”

“No one asked you to help me.”

“ _Save_ you. I saved you, because ‘helping’ you implies you would have _survived_ that altercation without my interference.” When she opened her mouth to respond, Charlie cut her off. “You wanna know what would have happened to you? Eibhlin and Fiona would have locked you in a dungeon, violated your mind until it was just close enough to broken that you’d still feel the pain intimately when they cut you into tiny, bite-sized pieces to feed to their hounds.” Hollis gulped, eyelashes fluttering like she was keeping back tears. She tried to turned her head, but he held steady. “Haven’t you suffered enough, Brody? Haven’t _I_?”

Their gazes met and held and…Hollis burst into laughter.

Charlie tried futilely to stifle a smile before he started to.

“Cut!” Anders yelled, shaking his head and tossing Taylor a bemused look before turning back to Charlie and Hollis who had their arms around each other as they laughed. “You two _children_ need a minute?”

Hollis waved a hand, breathless, as Charlie shook his head, tears leaking from his eyes and a hand pressed over his mouth as he shook his head.

“We’re fine,” Charlie wheezed when he’d finally drawn in a shallow breath.

They met eyes and went off again.

Anders rolled his eyes. “We’ll take ten, and then _maybe_ the children will be able to gaze soulfully into each other’s eyes without giggling like schoolchildren.”

“Excuse you!” Hollis exclaimed.

Charlie scowled, “Yeah, I’ve never technically been a school boy.”

“How do you put up with them?” Anders sighed to Taylor who shrugged and waved a hand dismissively.

“Drugs.”

“Knew it!” Anders declared with a laugh, “And Scout says I’m crazy.”

“Well…” the boom operator drawled, and Anders pointed at him with a feigned threatening look.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, narrowly catching the water bottle Sadie tossed her with a wry grin. He made his way over to her and threw an arm over her shoulders and grinned down at her as she scowled back. “You’re buttering me up before you take me to the slaughter.”

“No…” she started to argue.

“You act like I don’t know you,” Charlie cut her off as he plucked a blueberry muffin off of the catering table, waving cheerfully at a group of girls gathered on the corner passed the security. The squealed excitedly and clung to each other as Charlie put his muffin to his nose, sniffed it, and then took a bite of it smirking and winking at them as they chewed. They giggled some more, and Charlie turned back to Sadie, lightly slugging her in the side. “Come on, Sadie, out with it. What’s the problem?”

Sadie cleared her throat nervously and rubbed the back of her neck before saying with kind of seriousness usually saved for relaying messages from his management: “Uncle Sam’s here.”

Charlie blinked at the absurdity of that statement, taking a moment to realize that she _wasn’t_ talking about the American way but his father.

He tensed, jaw tightening, and back turning away from the crowd of observers and fans. “Where?”

‘Where’ was his trailer, apparently, and Charlie walked towards it like he was walking towards his own execution: grimly determined but stone-faced seriousness. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him, resting his back against the door as his eyes fell immediately on the golden-skinned, golden-haired man who’d taught him everything he knew about his career who had a beer in one hand and magnetic picture frame in the other with an inscrutable expression.

His gaze lifted to meet Charlie’s, his lips lifting in a slight smirk. He placed the photo of Raleigh, Patrick, and Charlie horseback riding back on the mini fridge and eyeballed Charlie with the same searching, studious gaze that had always been prevalent in each of their meetings in his childhood. And as always, the slight lift of his lips and the way his eyes flitted away seemed to say that he found his second son lacking.

“You’re here,” Charlie said flatly, pushing off the door to walk further in.

“Don’t get pissy with _me_ , Charlie. You pushed me to this.”

“Because you can’t find Poppy and Jarek…because they fled the country, you mean,” he pointed out, watching his father’s expression tighten. A flicker of guilt ran through him, because for all his faults, the man hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant that kind of cruel remark. He’d been an absentee father primarily concerned with his own dick and his own career, but he hadn’t been horrible. “Sorry,” he added.

Samuel nodded and shrugged as he took a sip of his beer, “Speak your mind Charlie, you always do.”

“Are you here for work or your mistress?”

Other people might have flinched at that, yelled, rebuked or scolded for that inappropriate question, but Samuel did neither, simply staring at his son and judging his depth of knowledge.

His father had a habit of sleeping around, but in addition to his numerous one night stands and wife at home with the family, he’d acquired a long-term mistress located primarily in London, though she flitted around from place to place. He knew because Sienna Mortimer hadn’t exactly been secretive about their affair, though she also never flaunted it in Charlie’s face. They got on well enough for Charlie to dismiss some of her biggest flaws, like that fact that she had been sleeping with his father since she’d worked on that summer project in Spain with him the summer after they’d first started _Ethereal._

He offered Charlie a wane smile over the rim of his bottle. “Can’t I be here for both?”

“Absolutely,” Charlie retorted, “I’m just wondering which one’s the primary motivation.”

“You have been playing nice with Sienna, haven’t you?”

“She doesn’t tell you?”

“She doesn’t want to cross lines.”

“Well at least you’ve picked a decent one this time,” he huffed and rolled his eyes. “ _This_ is why none of your adult children want to talk to you.”

“Because I’m human? Because I don’t fit their unreasonable standards of parenthood?”

“Because you’re a dog,” he corrected with an easy shrug.

His father’s eyebrows rose impossibly high and his gaze remained unwavering on Charlie as he took another long swallow of his beer, emptying the bottle and setting it on the counter with an audible clink. Charlie’s back straightened, and he brushed a plait out of his eyes, bracing for the inevitable verbal slap his father had every intention of issuing.

“You’re hardly one to talk to me about my overactive sex life when you’ve slept with half the worldwide male population.”

Even though he knew it had been coming, Charlie couldn’t help but flinch, swallowing painfully, and pressing his lips together in a hardline.

“What bothers you more: that they’re men or that I’ve slept with so many of them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Samuel waved a hand dismissively. “You can sleep with the whole country if that’s what you need to feel like you’re worth something.” Charlie winced again, tightening his hand on the counter ledge until he could feel it digging into his skin hard enough to break. “It bothers me that you have your little trysts so publicly.”

“You mean like when you go on public dates with your nonexistent mistress?” Charlie shot back sharply. “And unlike you I’ve loved and respected _all_ of my long term partners enough to _not_ stick my cock in everything that moves.”

Samuel rolled his eyes. “You want an award? You’re twenty-one and secretly gay. You don’t even know what temptation is.” He waved a dismissive hand as his lip curved.

“I don’t really think it’s tempting to _betray_ the people you swore to love and care for.”

“I don’t think you know the first thing about marriage,” he snapped curtly.

“That’s fine, because I don’t think you know the first thing about fatherhood.”

His father sneered as he replied derisively, “Oh, so you’ve been a surrogate parent for your boyfriends’s bastard for ten minutes and suddenly you think you know what parenthood is?”

Charlie stilled and narrowed his eyes on his father, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to decide whether or not he wanted to touch that comment with a ten-foot pole. He _didn’t_ , but that didn’t mean he _couldn’t_. If he gave Samuel an inch, he’d take the whole fucking planet, and the last ting Charlie ever wanted was for Raleigh – or _Patrick_ for that matter – to hear Samuel Beck had been running around calling the boy a bastard.

“Don’t call my kid a bastard, dad,” Charlie warned.

Samuel quirked an eyebrow with amusement, “ _Your_ kid?”

“And I spend time with Raleigh instead of taking him to filming with me, to _work_ , and calling it bonding because any free time is spent screwing my mistress on the dining table in the trailer.” Charlie returned evenly as his father’s eyes narrow. He shrugged, ignoring his pounding heart and sweating palms. Every time he was in his father’s presence he felt half like a small child again desperate for his father’s affection and vying with the world for his attention and half like a rebellious delinquent that want to push every button to see what finally made the man explode.

The latter side _always_ won out.

But Samuel Beck always won.

“You don’t know the first thing about raising a child. You don’t know the first thing about having a relationship in the industry when you and your boyfriend _live together_ and have worked on the same show for five years. What do you about anything? About separation and loneliness? You think three months is a lot? Try living like that full time.”

Charlie could admit his father might have had a point about his and Patrick’s relationship not really being tested, but Charlie also knew that their separation was unlikely to be as intense as it would have been before Raleigh had come into their lives. They’d decided mutually to try to forgo a nanny. They wanted to raise him in a semi-normal household, and Charlie felt that a nanny took away incentive and pressure to be active and involved in Raleigh’s life. Someone would have to be available for Raleigh while the other person was doing a project, and Patrick had asked Charlie if he’d even be able to handle that considering how jam-packed his schedule had been since before he’d even hit puberty.

He didn’t know, but he’d be willing to find out.

“I know the first thing to do regardless is keep my dick in my pants and out of someone that isn’t my partner. Probably a solid start.” Charlie returned sarcastically. Samuel glowered, but Charlie went on before he could speak, “And you know what I’m not disgusting, that’s a good place to start too. I love Patrick. I made promises to him, and I made promises to Raleigh. I don’t need to be perfect, but I don’t get to be selfish. There are other people in my life than just me. People who depend on me and lean on me and expect me to keep the promises I made to them, and I don’t get why I’m twenty-one and realize that, but you _don’t_. You don’t even just cheat on your _wife_ , you always drag the whole family into your bullshit. I mean other than our chosen careers, what do you know about your kids? Less than you know about your string of wives and mistresses, that’s for damn sure. You’re a husband three times over and a father six times over. You’re not King Louis XIV or Henry VIII. Get over yourself. Do you think it’s been easy changing my lifestyle to accommodate a child? Having to stop parties and having sex whenever and wherever we wanted and deal with my fucking management _again_? It’s fucking sucked, but I love him and he’s my son so I got over it. You’re forty-two, when the hell are _you_ going to?”

Samuel didn’t seem the least bit moved by the biggest and most personal rant Charlie had _ever_ leveled at him. He never did, though, and for once Charlie wasn’t concerned about it, wasn’t hurt by it, because he had a job, a partner he loved, and a son he’d never known he wanted who made every day something new and amazing. He didn’t have time for his father’s bullshit.

“It’s been a nightmare. Don’t do this again. I’ve got to get back to set,” Charlie told him tonelessly, whirling out of the trailer.

He breathed in the fresh August air and nodded, feeling some weight fall from his shoulders as he made his way back to set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Sienna's Samuel's mistress. I know it kind of came out of left field, but it didn't actually surprise me when I was writing it. It seemed like a lot of people expected Evelyn, but Evelyn's not actually that bad. She was possessive and jealous and oblivious but if anything she's definitely not into sharing.
> 
> The saddest part about Sam and Charlie's relationship is that Samuel's not even homophobic, he just can't have HIS son being gay, destroying his career, and ruining their family name. What an asshole. He might actually be worse than Bailey's father. Almost.


	41. "Work Song" by Hozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pap walks, Mama Gallagher, and Star Wars spoilers abound

To: margaretleona.gallagher@gmail.co.uk

Cc: xavier.wilson@redlettermgmt.org

Bcc: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Elena and Charlie

Ms. Gallagher,

Against my express wishes (and my clients) you’ve been exclusive access to what is bound to be press gold in both the US and the UK, at least for the considerable future. Subject to you breaking any agreements with Patrick Gallagher and his management regarding the existence and relationship of his son to the public on any scale including social media this agreement will be revoked. On a professional and personal note, I don’t trust you. I’m well aware that Patrick Gallagher’s esteemed sister breaking the story about his best friend and rumored lover’s love life with America’s sweetheart gives this story legs, but I’m not at all supportive of either the studio or Red Letter Mgmt’s decision to allow you access to Charlie at all.

Proceed with caution,

Harold Benton-Sterling

 

**Group MMS to Israel, Sin, Salem, Bailey, Aaron, and Chaz**

**Patrick:** Update: the dinosaurs are the new servants of the rebels

 **Patrick:** And both the automobiles and the population of polly pockets are in league with the First Order

 **Salem:** Wtf this shit is intense!

 **Bailey:** As long as Sven’s okay…

 **Chaz:** He was sacrificed for the Breyer’s horse barn

 **Bailey:** x_x

 **Israel:** This is barbaric!

 **Sin:** By who????

 **Chaz:** General Leia Organa.

 **Israel:** Plot twist!

 **Salem:** Clearly, Leia hit dark times.

 **Sin:** Han’s death did a number on her.

 **Bailey:** Han died??????

 **Sin:** …his son Kylo Ren killed him.

 **Bailey:** Kylo Ren’s his son????????

 **Patrick:** Spoiler alert *creeps away quietly*

 **Salem:** You grab Indian. I’ll get the movie set up.

 **Charlie:** Oooh love on the battlefield…

 **Bailey:** <3

 

**reblogged by sunshinetricks**

**rumouralert**

Chaz and his daddy are on the outs…

#this makes me sad #happy acting families #let’s all just love each other kay?

**sunshineandsainthood**

Samuel Beck’s a serial womanizer who fed off his son’s popularity when he was a TODDLER and abandoned two families once for their au pair-turned nanny who then controlled Chaz’s career indirectly for YEARS. Don’t be an idiot.

**irishmanpatr <3k**

Same goes to Maggie the tab journo and Patty before anyone get smart.

* * *

“Where papa go, Daddy?” Raleigh asked, standing on his tiptoes and poking his head over the ledge of the table to peer up at Patrick with wide, innocent eyes and a guileless expression on his face that only made Patrick feel guiltier for dragging a three year old into their complex web of lies and drama.

Then there was Elena Valence who, Patrick had cheerfully been told by Ra-Ra, hadn’t been told that Charlie was gay and in a relationship.

Poppy had summed up the whole situation by taking one look at Elena Valence’s Dorian Speaks interview and promptly declaring, PR or not, Elena Valence wanted Charlie in a way far more than platonic.

Patrick agreed.

Resting his cheek on his hand, Patrick grinned down at his tousled son. “Papa had to go out and do work, Raleigh. You know that.”

They’d talked about what to tell Raleigh about these little outings with Elena Valence while they went on. They’d become less frequent when she officially kicked off the European leg of her tour, but even then Patrick would be making occasional back and forth weekend trips. The topic alone had had Charlie pulling out a bottle of gin he touched only in emotional emergencies, and Patrick had watched him and assured him as much as he could that it wouldn’t be a huge deal to Raleigh. He hadn’t said, it would be to both him and Charlie, though.

Sighing dramatically, Raleigh dropped his head on the table with a pout on his face as his hazel eyes flickered up to Patrick’s pleadingly. “I want my papa home now.”

“I know, munchkin,” Patrick cooed, getting to his feet and picking up his son to cradle him. He nuzzled Raleigh’s cheek, and the boy giggled softly. He planted a kiss on Raleigh’s cheek as he admitted quietly, “I want papa home too.” Raleigh peered up at him, and Patrick forced a smile and tapped him on the nose. “But he’ll be home in time for dinner. You want to help daddy cook?”

Raleigh frowned, eyebrows drawing together and lips pursed as he thought about the offer before he nodded decisively. “I help. Make food papa. He come home quick, yes?”

Stifling laughter, Patrick set him down and went to the cabinet to pull out Raleigh’s step stool out of the cabinet. He placed it down by the island, and Raleigh clambered up, thunking both palms on the counter with a contented smile and looking at Raleigh over his shoulder.

“We listen to wars?”

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Patrick backtracked to the speaker and fiddled until the _Star Wars_ soundtrack blared out. Raleigh cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows at the counter, taking a minute to listen, Patrick discreetly taking a photo, before the boy nodded sagely and began humming along to the theme. For all Raleigh ranted and raved about Kylo Ren, musically the child was a traditionalist and would only listen to the music from the original trilogy (and Darth Maul’s music from the prequels but _only_ Darth Maul’s). Patrick and Charlie were hopelessly endeared by his _Star Wars_ obsession.

As Patrick went to dig through the pantry and refrigerator, Raleigh leaned against the counter, waving cheerfully to Snow as she padded into the room and collapsed onto her pillow in the corner with a huff, and narrowed his eyes studiously on Patrick.

“What we make?”

“We are making…” Patrick frowned as he scanned the pantry for the beef stock cubes his dinner depended on. When he spotted it he grabbed it with a flourish and set it down on the counter next to his surprisingly massive pile of ingredients that Raleigh eyed dubiously. “Spaghetti Bolognese.”

Raleigh grimaced and shook his head, “No like pasketti.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rose, but he decided not to inquire into Raleigh’s newfound anti-spaghetti campaign. He shot of a quick text to Charlie – ‘I can’t believe your son’s a spaghetti hater’ – and picked up the box of dried noodles as Raleigh watched with fear in his eyes and his lip curled back in disgust.

 _Jesus Christ, you’d think it attacked him_.

“Sure thing, love. We’ll make…penne Bolognese. Yes?” He tossed the box lightly to Raleigh, stifling a smile as he narrowly caught it in hand and twisted it around to press his face against the see-through panel before nodding profusely. “Lovely, Raleigh, grab me a pot?”

Half an hour later, Patrick had an eye on Raleigh stirring the pot of noodles and staring into the steam with avid interest and his hip leaning against the counter beside his remnants of chopped tomatoes. He’d decided to indulge his masochistic streak and look up whatever had hit the press about Charlie and Elena Valence, going to straight to his sister’s article with a sneer and extreme hesitance.

The first thing that came up was a trilogy of photographs of the pair walking in Potter’s Field Park in some of the most scenic first date pap photos Patrick had ever seen. One angle had the Tower of London and Tower Bridge; the other two had the park and City Hall. The candid shots were gorgeous, and a pang went through Patrick when he realized how _good_ they looked together.

Charlie in his cashmere bear Burberry jumper, a black Burberry trench coat, and Saint Lauren ankle boots.

Elena in a patterned chiffon Marilyn dress, a suede jacket, and suede wedge boots, her ringlet curls hanging loose to frame a glowing, beaming face.

They strolled hand-in-hand. Elena’s head tipped back in laughter in one while Charlie watched her with a soft smile that translated as burgeoning infatuation. Patrick had been briefed on what Harry wanted Charlie to do. They’d walked into the meeting where Harry had met them with, “How well can you fake it?” Charlie had sneered back, “I’m an Oscar-winning actor not Harry Styles and Cris Emerson, I can fake it.” And Harry had nodded and said, “Make Elena Valence fall in love with you. That’s what I want.”

Charlie had been very ‘challenge accepted,’ and Patrick blasé, but now that he was living it, he didn’t know why he hadn’t argued early enough for his opinion to matter. He wasn’t at all comfortable with this.

Peeking up at Raleigh as he looked to Patrick for permission before prodding the sauce in the saucepan, Patrick reached the article with trepidation, glaring at his sister’s name on the by-line.

> **EXCLUSIVE: Romance on the rise for Elena Valence and Charlie Beck**
> 
> British-born silver screen heartthrob, Charlie Beck, and American pop superstar, Elena Valence, have been teasing at a romance between the pair of them for weeks since Valence’s admission to harboring a crush on the sexy film star during an interview with Ryan Seacrest. The rumors only grew stronger when Beck artfully dodged questions about meeting Valence during her pre-show break in London. And it seems like the rumors are true! Mere hours ago, the couple stunned fans by being photographed at Potter’s Field Park for a stroll after being seen by fans lunching at Blueprint Café on the Thames. “They were so flirty, laughing, touching each other’s hands and blushing. It was cute like when teenagers have a crush on each other, you know?” Reps from both their teams declined to comment at this time, but it seems this might be the real thing for party boy Beck. The world – and the Internet – is anxious to see if this captivating couple sticks around or burns out.

Patrick narrowed his eyes on the article. The complete and utter bullshit. The PR shitstorm that neither of them could run away from. Sighing and running a hand through his hair, he reached over to stir the sauce, smiling and shaking his head at Raleigh’s intense concentration when it came to stirring a pot of pasta. He jolted when his phone pinged and fumbled for a moment as he tried to grasp ahold of it while his hands trembled with silent fury.

 **Chazza:** Haha yeah the noodle thing is weird. No string noodles.

 **Chazza:** Be home in 10…15 aaron says <3

 **Patrick:** We wait with baited breath. It’s only been 84yrs

 **Chazza:** Stow it Trick!

Shaking his head and laughing, Patrick tucked his mobile phone into his pocket and leaned towards Raleigh, frowning and still while the doorbell rang three times in succession.

Raleigh’s head perked up with excitement that quickly turned cautious, and he turned to Patrick wide-eyed. Snow sat up in alarm, and the evil bell ringer rang again. What a jackass.

“Hands up!” Patrick yelled at Raleigh playfully.

His hands whipped up, and Raleigh giggled as he eyed Patrick patiently.

“I’ve got to get the door while I’m gone I need to not to touch any of the stuff on the stove, hear me Raleigh? I’m not kidding. You could get hurt.” Patrick told him, huffing and glaring at the ceiling as the doorbell rang again.

Raleigh nodded seriously. “I be good.”

He pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s head, “You’re always good.”

“Yes,” Raleigh smirked.

Patrick rolled his eyes and shook his head, wondering how (probably Charlie) his son had gotten (almost definitely Charlie) so vain (CHARLIE).

The doorbell rang again, and he groaned, jogging towards it while Snow followed behind, standing in the doorway and barking lazily and without any real conviction. “I’m coming!” He hollered down the hall before he reached the door and yanked it open, ready and prepared to scream at the person on the other side about patience, but all he could do was gape at the woman standing in front of him, sparing only a glance for her burly husband. “Mam?!”

Kennedy moved to sweep a hand through her hair, stopping and scowling when she found her braided hair less than cooperative. Tugging on the thick braid anxiously, his mother shot a look over her shoulder at Rory and turned back to Patrick. Patrick who stood in the doorway dumbfounded and quickly turned uncomfortable. His eyes moved to Rory, and the man scoffed and shook his head with his hands crossed over his chest.

“I told you to call her back, didn’t I?”

Fair point.

His mother shot her husband a scowl before turning to Patrick with chagrin, starting hesitantly, “Patrick…”

“Daaaaaaaaaddy!” Raleigh’s shrill exclamation reached them.

Patrick winced, and Kennedy’s eyes widened as her eyes moved to Patrick with accusation in the depths.

“So it is true, then? What your sister told me?” Kennedy spat at him.

He rolled his eyes and left the door open as he made his way to the kitchen, leaning against the molding around the doorway as his gaze found Raleigh glaring at the bubbling sauce. “Raleigh,” the little boy’s eyes shot up to meet his, pleading for permission, and Patrick nodded once, shaking his head when the boy perked up and moved to the wooden spoon, his brow furrowing in concentration as he stirred the sauce.

From behind him, his mother gasped, her hand going to her mouth and her hand reaching out for Rory. Patrick watched her carefully as she stared at Raleigh in disbelief, and Snow, not at all liking the new additions, rose and walked to plop down beside the island, placing herself between his mother and Raleigh, her eyes narrowed on Kennedy and Rory with suspicion.

“He looks just like you,” Kennedy murmured, her gaze moving to Patrick, alight with wonder. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this?”

“We’re not speaking,” Patrick pointed out rather unnecessarily and the slightest bit guilty. For all their issues, even Charlie had pointed out that Kennedy might want to know about her first grandchild.

Rory rolled his eyes but kept out of a conversation that didn’t actually concern him. Kennedy looked hurt, flinching back like she’d been struck, her expression stricken. She placed a hand over her heart like _she’d_ been the one hurt by rejecting her own son because of the gender of the person he’d fallen in love with. And Patrick loved and adored his mother, always had, but he wouldn’t give her this, _couldn’t_ accept the way she’d tried to make him feel ashamed of what he was and who he loved.

Fuck if he’d ever be ashamed of Charlie.

“That’s not an excuse, Patrick Donovan,” Kennedy whispered coldly. “What about Rory? What about your grandparents? What about your aunts and uncles? What about your cousins? Don’t you think your family deserves to know when we’ve acquired a new member no matter how you feel about me?”

Patrick whirled his head around to narrow his eyes on his mother. “My cousins _know_ , and the only reason I _haven’t_ dragged him off to Cork to introduce him to Gran and Granddad is because of you and your siblings.” He pointed out viciously. Rory gave him a warning look as his mother cringed back and into her husband’s comforting embrace. As much as Patrick had never wanted to see his mother hurt, he wouldn’t allow her to marginalize the way her family behaved. “I’m raising my son to be open-minded, to be respectful of other people’s choices and lifestyles, and taking him into a family setting where more than half the occupants are disgusted by the way his parents live their life isn’t conducive to _anything_ Chaz and I are trying to teach him.”

Kennedy huffed and rolled her eyes while Rory stiffened and shook his head, already knowing what was coming. “You and Charlie…you and your _boyfriend_ …” she scoffed.

“Kennedy,” Rory started.

Patrick narrowed his eyes on his mother as she shook off her husband, agitated.

“You can’t honestly still be involved with that boy. You’ve got a child to raise, Patrick,” Kennedy snapped.

“Yes, we do,” Patrick clarified.

“He’s a baby,” she insisted.

“I think what you meant to say was ‘he’s a man.’”

“It’s not…” Rory pinched her arm before she could dig the hole any deeper than she already had, and Kennedy flushed and drew her eyebrows together as she puzzled out how to best rephrase that, but it didn’t really matter to Patrick anyway. He knew what she’d meant to say, knew what had gone unspoken, and it had only hardened his resolve against her being a part of Raleigh’s life. He didn’t want that kind of prejudice around his son. “What is that going to teach your son, Patrick?”

Rory shook his head, shoulders drooping in defeat.

Patrick narrowed his eyes on his mother. Everyone had been blathering on for weeks about her needing time to wrap her head around everything, to reconcile her beliefs with what she’d been told in the heat of an argument surrounded by family she thought she knew. Of course, it had been _months_ since he’d talked to her and he hadn’t expected miracles, but he had expected slightly less ignorance. Just because she hadn’t disowned him _again_ didn’t mean much in his book.

“What is having a positive, successful male role model in his life who loves him and puts him above everything going to teach Raleigh? Seriously? Hopefully something good about love or relationships or behavior. What do expect me to say, mam? Because Charlie’s a damn good parent to a child whose life he never _had_ to be a part of. Raleigh adores him, and I know you’re not trying to guilt me into taking that away from a child who’s had so little and possesses a plethora abandonment issues.”

Kennedy’s face reddened.

Before she could speak, the door opened, and both Raleigh and Snow’s head snapped up with a hopeful, excited look. Raleigh threw his hands up with triumph, and Patrick winced as Bolognese sauce from the spoon still clenched in his hand went flying, hitting the cabinet with a splat.

“Mine papa!” Raleigh paused, noticing Rory and Kennedy for the first time. His hands lowered slowly as his eyes went to Patrick. “Daddy, who they?”

Patrick hesitated on answering, jolting when a hand slipped around his waist and a kiss was pressed to the underside of his jaw. “Hey Trick,” Charlie murmured against his skin. Patrick looked down at him with a soft smile, the tension his mother had induced, draining, and Charlie ran a hand through his hair and met first Kennedy’s gaze then Rory’s before moving back. “Mrs. Doherty, Rory,” Charlie nodded a greeting to each of them in turn.

Rory grinned at Charlie with affection and camaraderie that Patrick hadn’t been entirely aware they had. “Chazza.”

“Charlie Beck,” Kennedy said, not quite managing to erase the distaste from her tone.

Charlie remained unbothered while Rory shot his wife a disbelieving look that left her flushing guiltily.

Patrick wanted to say something to her, but the pleading look Charlie leveled him with had him closing his mouth and focusing on Charlie, dismissing his mother entirely. “How was your pap walk, Sunshine?”

“Pap walk-y,” Charlie answered with a dimpled grin. “But I did find this great place by Tower Bridge to eat that I think the munchkin will absolutely love.”

“Not Blueprint?” Patrick bemoaned.

Charlie laughed and shook his head. “Definitely not Blueprint. Super posh café food that is. Raleigh’d do that thing he does when he thinks we need him to eat everything even though he hates it.”

“Papa! Me!” Raleigh exclaimed in exasperation from the stove, pouting at the small group that had stolen Charlie’s attention.

Reaching up, Charlie tapped his fingers on Patrick’s cheek and pulled up the sleeves of his Burberry jumper as he squeezed between Patrick and Kennedy into the kitchen. “I didn’t forget about you, Raleigh, promise love.” Charlie patted Snow’s head in greeting as he placed a kiss on Raleigh’s cheek, making the little boy giggling as he stared up at Charlie with undisguised adoration. “What are you cooking?”

“Me and Daddy make pasketti ba-lon-ies,” Raleigh tried with a frown. He shrugged, and Patrick watched with a smile as Charlie flipped off the dials on the stove and grabbed a serving bowl and a strainer for the pasta.

“You let your Daddy make spaghetti Bolognese?” Charlie pretended to chide. “But he’s a terrible chef, Raleigh. How could you?”

“That is a bold-faced lie!” Patrick exclaimed, and Raleigh squashed his hands over his face as he laughed.

Charlie shot him a wicked smile over Raleigh’s head before he met their son’s hazel eyes and nodded sagely. “It is,” he confided while Raleigh watched him raptly. “Daddy just hates cooking, which doesn’t mean he’s not good at it.”

Raleigh pursed his lips and gripped onto Charlie as he came back over, pouring the pasta in the serving bowl and maneuvering deftly to get the sauce from the stovetop. “We watch Ren for dinner?”

Patrick sighed, and Charlie tensed for a minute, meeting Patrick’s eyes searchingly, hoping he could read the ‘dear God no’ in them. Both Charlie and Patrick were, _naturally_ , movie buffs, which didn’t necessarily translate into being _Star Wars_ fanboys (except _of course_ it did because _Star Wars_ , duh), but Patrick absolutely could not handle another night of the same two movies over and over again.

Stifling a laugh at whatever he’d seen in Patrick’s expression, Charlie looked down at Raleigh, “Maybe you and Kylo Ren need a bit of a break.” At Raleigh’s stricken look, Charlie amended, “Just for tonight.”

The kid seemed to think that over before nodding with melancholy defeat, but Patrick, quite frankly, would take that. “Rat chef?”

“We can absolutely watch _Ratatouille_ ,” Patrick added. “You want to go set it up while Papa and I finish getting the food?”

Raleigh nodded and hopped down, scurrying passed Kennedy and Rory without a single glance in their direction, apparently dismissing them as Patrick had. Charlie glanced between the three of them as he pulled the Caprese salad Patrick had made earlier out of the fridge. Deciding to follow Raleigh’s example, Patrick grabbed a bottle of red wine out and a cup of water for Raleigh.

Charlie cleared his throat and looked at Kennedy and Rory. “Are you staying for dinner then?”

Patrick glared at his boyfriend while Kennedy gaped, “Could we?”

“I have a problem with your ideology not your presence,” Charlie said tonelessly. “As long as we can all play nice and tolerant for two hours, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Kennedy’s eyes filled with fury, and Patrick stopped pulling out cutlery to watch Charlie slap down his mother. “I told Patrick to talk to you in the hopes you’d realized the world doesn’t revolve around you, but obviously that’s not what happened. You haven’t changed. That’s a problem for me, but it’s not really my business unless you choose to make it my business. So, I’ll let you go on making a fool of yourself and alienating your son without any interference from me, but the minute your issues make our son uncomfortable I’ll show you to the door. Patrick might feel guilty about that because you’re his mother, but I won’t. Now, would you like to stay for dinner?”

Silence descended over the kitchen as Patrick stared at his boyfriend with tear-filled eyes and a thankful gaze at the words he’d never be able to say to his mother and Rory waited with baited breath for his wife’s response.

Kennedy cleared her throat anxiously, “We’d love to stay for dinner, yes.”

Charlie grinned, “Lovely.”

Patrick very much doubted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The UK loves spaghetti Bolognese same with carbonara. I absolutely do not understand, but then they seem to hate salt, flavor, sugar, decent ice cream, cocktails that lack taste because they're about 98% alcohol, and really sketch Mexican food...don't mind me. I'm beyond homesick, five minutes away from ending my roommates, and have recently discovered all of my tortilla chips, frozen chicken, and good American crackers. Today I hate everyone. Happy Sunday folks.


	42. "Get down on you knees and tell me you love me" by All Time Low

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie and Salem had a long overdue conversation; Patrick sticks it to his sister

To: thatgeorgiapeach@gmail.com

From: margaretleona.gallagher@gmail.co.uk

Subject: RE: Evidence

Georgia,

I’ve sent all those photos and the article to my editor, and it’ll be going into print at the beginning of the week just after the Aston Villa game. The money will be wired into your account as promised.

Margaret L. Gallagher

Journalist, The Sun

 

**Eloise L (@therealelword)**

What the fuck is wrong with @MaggieLGallagher? #disgusting #protestthepress

 

**Props for Henley (@henley_the_shirt)**

@MaggieLGallagher is why the world thinks tabloid journos are gross

 

**B4 Bethany (@anywaybeth)**

@MaggieLGallagher is disgusting. How dare she OUT someone? Let alone someone whose career could be ruined because of this

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

Absolutely appalled by @MaggieLGallagher there is never a reason to out someone closeted. It’s not about YOU

 

**Margaret Gallagher (@MaggieLGallagher)**

For everyone who has something to say about my journalistic integrity: it’s call freedom of press

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@MaggieLGallagher there’s a difference between freedom of press and invasion of privacy. This was disgusting. You should be fired.

**Text message to Patrick**

**Charlie:** Omfg your sister is such a fucking bitch.

 **Patrick:** What did she do?

 **Charlie:** The hell are you that you don’t know?

 **Patrick:** …working?

 

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**

I thought this press was done with this. It’s disgusting, unprofessional, and morally reprehensible

 

**Text message to Rosie**

**Harry:** Call Adrienne Montgomery and have her send me Salem’s flight details

 **Harry:** I’ll be back in London within the next couple hours.

 **Rosie:** Where are you exactly?

 **Harry:** Lyons-Saint Exupery Airport.

 **Rosie:** Fucking hell

* * *

Charlie sat on Salem and Bailey’s sofa nursing a tea with one hand and flipping through the scripts his agent had sent him on his tablet with the other when Salem stumbled into the room with bleary eyes and a haggard expression, torso bare and covered in fading lovebites and his boyfriend’s sweatpants riding low on his hips.

Ignoring his blaring mobile phone, Salem made a beeline for the array of bacon, eggs, and muffins that Charlie had brought along. He piled food onto the paper plate Charlie had set out for him and collapsed beside Charlie on the sofa with a pinched expression. Grabbing the remote, Salem flipped through the channels until he settled on playing _The Man in High Castle_ from season one as Charlie reached over for his coffee and handed it to Salem wordlessly, rolling his eyes and smirking as he settled into the chair with a disgruntled expression.

“How is he?” Charlie asked finally as Salem swallowed a few sips of his coffee.

“Pissy,” Salem announced bluntly, shrugging his shoulders.

“Anyone would be,” he remarked, slanting a sideways look at Salem when the man simply nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “Do you think Georgia…?”

“I have to check out everyone not just the person who did it,” Salem replied curtly, voice harsh and biting, irate and infuriated, and Charlie knew why. “Fucking cunt bitch, knew I shouldn’t have trusted that absolute…”

“Cunt bitch? Twat?” Charlie suggested, lips starting to quirk with amusement.

Salem rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively, obviously done talking about the topic. “It’s fine I guess. Your spawn has no boundaries anymore. He kicked me out of bed and said Disney movies are the best way to feel better so they’re crashed out watching _Beauty and the Beast_ upstairs.”

Charlie grinned, “Live action or cartoon?”

Making a disgusting face, Salem balked, “Cartoon. Look, I love Ewan McGregor, Emma Watson, Emma Thompson, Gugu…”

“Mbatha-Raw,” Charlie finished for Salem with a cheeky grin.

Salem poked him in the side, “And – fuck yeah – Stanley Tucci, but I absolutely cannot deal with live-action remakes. Why are you polluting tradition like that?”

“Drama queen.”

“This from the man who won’t watch any of the new _X-Men_ movies.”

“They need to stop with those and the _Fantastic Four_. Every time they make them, they just get worse.”

“Like _Rocky Horror Picture Show_?” Salem teased.

Charlie glared at him, “We agreed never to talk about that. Tim Curry’s legacy should never have been tarnished like that.”

Barking out a laugh, Salem’s jade eyes focused on the television, his lip curling when Juliana appeared on screen, dropping her opponent during her Akido class. Charlie definitely sympathized with the look; Juliana was a shit character the first season, and neither of them had ever gotten over how moronic and self-centered she actually was.

“You off today?”

“Nope, I have an evening call time.”

Salem crooked an eyebrow. “We’ll keep Raleigh for you if you want.”

He couldn’t quite help the warm, delighted smile that spread over his face at the offer. Neither Bailey nor Salem had any particular love for kids, as far as Charlie had seen, Bailey could barely even handle his niece and nephew for any lengthy period of time when their parents were present, but both men seemed to adore Raleigh. He couldn’t help snarking, “Why so you can pollute him by feeding him McDonalds and Domino’s?”

“Excuse you very much,” Salem sniffed haughtily, “ _you’re_ the one obsessed with Domino’s, and it would be KFC not McD’s, alright? McDonald’s here is gross. It’s like eating fried cardboard. I’d never subject Raleigh to something so awful.” Charlie sniggered, and Salem glanced over at him. “So Patrick’s onset already, then?”

“No, I think he went to chew out Maggie.”

Salem gave him a look that roughly translated into: for fuck’s sake, _really_?

Charlie waved it off, “His mum called to say he might need his help if you and Bailey decided to sue – ”

“We _will_ ,” Salem said in a steely tone.

“I figured, but Patrick went off on her and decided to fuck decorum and go rip his sister a new one. I’ll just let him have that. He’s got enough pent up anger over her being the writer of my PR dates with Elena Valence.” Salem leered at him, and Charlie huffed and rolled his eyes, digging his toes into Salem’s thigh viciously until he yelped and glared. “Stop it! Harry said that he wanted me to get her to fall in love with me.”

“You’re definitely succeeding.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and studied Salem, clearing his throat awkwardly. He needed to tell Salem like Harry had told him when they’d first sat down to agree to this whole thing. He _had_ to. “Salem?”

“Hmm?”

“You remember when we broke up?” Charlie hedged carefully.

Salem stilled with his fork halfway to his mouth, lowering it to the plate and crooking an eyebrow at Charlie. “Seriously? I’m twenty-three not senile.”

_Oh right, yeah. He would remember that, wouldn’t he?_

Salem waited.

Charlie stewed.

“I lied.” He confessed breathlessly, his heart racing and his palms sweating. He couldn’t even look at Salem, and his thumb anxiously twisted the ring Salem had once given him around his finger absently. Salem’s gaze, weighty and prevalent, rested on him steadily, and Charlie braced himself and clarified rather unnecessarily: “About why I was breaking up with you, I mean.”

Salem sighed and ran hand through his mussed bedhead. Charlie winced as Salem’s eyes slid back to him. “Chaz…how much truth do you want from me?”

“All of it,” Charlie murmured quietly.

“I knew that.”

Startled, Charlie’s head shot up. He gaped at Salem incredulously. “What?”

“I knew that, Chaz. I always knew that. I could see you from the window of my dorm room when Xavier and Luka dropped you off to break things off. You’d never liked them, but the _way_ you looked at them – the way you looked at _me_ when I opened the door…” Salem trailed off with a smile tinged with sadness and nostalgia. “ I knew.”

“So why did you…?”

Salem shrugged, “You were young. We _both_ were, and I don’t think you were ready to start a war with your team because of me, let alone with the entertainment industry. You wanted to protect me the way that you couldn’t protect yourself so I let you, and I’m not sure whether that was the right decision or the wrong one sometimes,” Salem confessed quietly, shrugging with a timid smile, “but it was the one we both made. I would have waited for you, though, if you’d asked.”

Charlie wiped away the tears that had started to fall from his eyes as he set down his tea and took Salem’s plate from his lap to drop it onto the table. With a soft, wavering smile, Salem caught Charlie as he hurled himself into his arms and cried onto his shoulder. He whispered quietly, “You deserved more than that.”

Salem pressed a kiss to his temple. “So did you.”

“Do you think we could have worked? Could have made it?” Charlie inquired in a small voice, peering up at Salem.

Eyes drifting up to the ceiling as his head tilted back, Salem frowned and narrowed his eyes as he thought it over. “I think…” Salem started slowly, hesitantly, “everything happened for a reason.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Charlie said, and Salem sighed. “I love Patrick and Raleigh. You love Bailey. I agree that we’re where we’re supposed to be, but I want to know if you think we could have made it if things had been different.”

Salem looked down at Charlie and nodded once, seriously. “Yeah, Chaz, we could have, but I don’t think we were meant to.”

“Yeah, I just wish my so-called team hadn’t been the one to show us that.”

“No argument here,” Salem snorted.

“Ugh,” Bailey mumbled, and they both glanced up as the footballer padded into the room, twisting his hair back into a small ponytail and picking up Charlie’s tea as he came over. He sniffed it and frowned at Charlie. “Is this Earl Grey?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“It’s mine now,” Bailey remarked raggedly, and Charlie huffed out a laugh as Bailey plopped down next to him on the sofa, letting Charlie throw an arm over him and pull him into their bizarre cuddle pile. “Your kid passed out halfway through ‘Be Our Guest.’ Ooh, Juliana’s sister’s getting offed by the Japanese feds. Always knew your countrymen were blind, Sale. She’s standing right out in the fucking open. Fuck out of here that they can’t see her.”

“Why you gotta ruin my show?” Salem shot back lightly.

“ _Juliana Crain_ ruins your show,” Bailey remarked. “She’s so vanilla.”

Charlie laughed, “Don’t be prejudice against people’s sexual practices.”

“Emotionally vanilla,” Bailey corrected with a huff before frowning and peering at Charlie and Salem in turn. “Why is everyone crying?”

“We’ve decided to terminate our torrid affair,” Salem replied evenly while Charlie choked and laughed.

Bailey rolled his eyes and looked to Charlie. “I don’t know what you ever saw in him. He thinks he’s funny. Thinks he’s attractive. Thinks he’s a good liar. Fucking delusional he is, give me one good thing about him.”

“He’s _not_ vanilla.”

Salem groaned at flicked Charlie’s temple while Bailey smirked and nodded at Charlie with pursed lips before the pair of them devolved into laughter at Salem’s expense. He huffed, scowled, and turned up the volume on the television to drown out the sound of his best friends’ laughter and his own slight smile at seeing the two people he loved most in the world getting on so well together. Neither of the men called him on it.

 

“You’re fucking unbelievable, do you know that?” Patrick asked tonelessly from where he sat with his Fred Perry leather boots up on Maggie’s desk as he reclined her chair with a stony face.

Maggie stilled with her hand on the light switch for only a moment before sighing in a tone that sounded vaguely like disappointment. She took a sip of her coffee, tossed it in the trash, and placed her laptop bag down in the corner of the room before stripping off her trench coat to hang up on the back of the door. His sister looked professional enough in a black pencil skirt and terracotta blouse, her black leather heels clicking over the hardwood as she made her way to the windows and lowered the shades to block out the sight of the muted sunset.

Whirling around, Maggie pulled the clip out of her hair and let it fall just passed her chin, brushing the nape of her neck. She played with her wedding ring as she turned to face Patrick with a shuttered face and haughty expression as though _he’d_ done wrong by turning up at her home. As though _she_ hadn’t outed a twenty-one year old football sensation. As though she hadn’t proved to the world how disgusting and underhanded she was.

Patrick had no patience for her bullshit.

“How did you get in here?” Maggie demanded coolly.

“Simon,” he returned steadily.

Maggie’s face grew darker as she shook her head and sat down in the window seat across from him, her hands folded across her chest and jaw set defensively.

“Shouldn’t you be at home with your boyfriend and baby?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Maggie?” Patrick demanded, completely allowing her previous comment to slide to the wayside while he chewed her out. “You _outed_ someone.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “I released pictures of _the_ Premier League footballer.”

The words were callously dismissive. Like Bailey’s being a public figure somehow made what she’d done acceptable, but it would absolutely never. Of all the things Patrick had thought his sister capable of, this had never quite made the list. Maybe that was naïve, but Patrick had thought she had _some_ boundaries. Apparently he’d only been deluding himself.

“You _outed_ a closeted gay man. Full stop.” Patrick swung his legs to the floor and pointed out her furiously. “There’s no justification for that. There’s no excuse. You violated a man’s privacy and dragged him and his sexuality and his partner into the mud for a fucking _story_. That’s not only disgusting, Maggie; it’s morally reprehensible. And you have the nerve to try to convince the whole world that _you_ were in the right.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “You’re only being this ridiculous because I’m reporting on your boyfriend making fake cow eyes at size zero popstar the entire planet wants him to be with.”

Wrong.

 _Way_ wrong.

The betrayal he felt from his sister writing those stories was dwarfed by the sheer, jagged, heart-rending disappointment he felt at knowing his sister had unapologetically outed a friend of his.

Not, of course, that it stopped his natural inclination to draw back like he’d been slapped. A victorious smile crossed her face as he forced himself to get it together, straightening his back and gripping the arms of the chair in a vise as he looked at the familiar face of a woman he no longer knew.

“For Lord’s sake, Maggie, what _happened_ to you? Because you were always a shark, but you weren’t always a scumbag.”

Fury crossed Maggie’s face. “You have no right – ”

“Not right to what? Call you on your bullshit? Because, I do, actually. I have every right. What you did to Arthur Bailey was despicable and unforgiveable, and you don’t really seem to care about the ethical lines you just shat all over, so I’ll clarify for you in terms that you’ll understand. Arthur Bailey isn’t some vapid, vain celebrity with an image to protect and a team of expensive lawyers at his disposal. This isn’t going to be like LA. Bailey’s _Salem Petrov’s_ boyfriend, or did you not think of that?”

Rolling her eyes, Maggie waved a hand dismissively. “You’re one of those vapid, vain celebrities with a team of expensive lawyers, Patty, lest you forget.”

“I haven’t,” he replied shortly. “That’s why I know what the hell I’m talking about. You decided to piss off a man who’s about to have more money that eighty percent of the country by the beginning of 2020. Who worked with Anonymous and defied the US government, escaped from Interpol when they had him in hand, and hacked for a living. Who hacked _governments_ for _fun_. Who has a personal relationship with Harry Benton-Sterling and a team of lawyers who make mine and Chaz’s look like chumps. Who the world stands behind albeit for a hundred different reasons. Who has connections with a million different people, half of whom _I’m_ scared to meet. _That’s_ the man taking you to court, Maggie.” Patrick expressed, vindicated when he noticed his sister growing paler and paler as the implications _finally_ sunk in. “A genius, billionaire tech mogul who started his own company at _twenty-one_ when he dropped out of MIT while on a study abroad at King’s College. Are you out of your mind, Maggie?”

“I didn’t think about that.”

Patrick nodded with a weak laugh because that much had been obvious from the minute Salem, Sin, Kimberly, Charlie, Tinzy, Poppy, Harry, _and_ Israel had sent him links to his sister’s biggest mistake. Getting to his feet, Patrick pulled on his leather jacket and tugged down his beanie, eyes lingering on the framed photograph on the edge of her desk of them both as teenagers with their mother’s arms thrown around their shoulders and broad smiles on their faces when they’d made their semi-annual trip to Dublin.

“Don’t expect me to help you. I cut off mam’s access to my bank account because I can’t trust her when it comes to you.” Maggie’s gaze whipped up to stare at him, eyes wide, afraid, appalled. “I won’t help you with this one, especially when you’re not even sorry that you did it.”

Maggie got to her feet, eyes flashing with fury and face burning red. “You can’t do that!”

“I have to. You need to be punished for this, and no one else is going to do it.”

“He’ll drag my name through the mud, Patrick!” Maggie shouted angrily.

He recognized the pleading in those words, the honest fear, but Patrick knew better now. Maggie might be afraid, but she hadn’t managed to take anything away from this. For him, an apology would suffice, and Bailey was nonconfrontational enough to probably back down on a full on lawsuit if Maggie came out and admitted she’d done wrong. But she _wouldn’t_ , and even _if_ she swallowed her pride to do so, it wouldn’t matter anyhow. It would be a lie, and Salem would know and roast her alive happily.

Shaking his head, Patrick rested his hand on the doorknob as his eyes remained on the woman he’d once loved and looked up to. This pale shadow of his sister who he’d lost all respect for. “Yeah, he will…and maybe it’ll teach you something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied earlier in my notes. There is going to be a new made-for-tv Rocky Horror...I'm...cringing...already. You just can't redo a movie with Tim Curry in it. Not until there's a generation who doesn't know who he is. Nope, nope, nope. Also everyone should watch The Man in the High Castle because lord help me that show was amazing. Even better than Vikings, which I am currently binge-watching. Lagertha is a goddess and Floki is my spirit animal...which might not be a good thing, come to think of it.


	43. "Secret Love Song pt 2" by Little Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie goes on a date (with someone who is decidedly not his boyfriend) and feels conflicted about it

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

How do you love someone that you can’t look at, can’t stand, and can’t respect?

 

**Text message from Mam**

**Mam:** Stop being a baby about this! Your sister needs our help!

**Patty:** My sister needs a soul

**Patty:** I’m not giving her a damn thing

**Patty:** She knows this

**Mam:** You need to stop making everything so personal! Its not like she outed your bf

**Patty:** Wow. First it’s the principle. Second that’s because she signed a contract

**Patty:** Third im done talking to you rn

 

**“The Industry’s disgusting but that doesn’t give the press free reign!”**

**Cris Emerson and Charlie Beck speak about outing on Dorian Speaks**

Earlier this month, fans reeled when EPL footballer and Olympic gold medalist, Arthur Bailey, was outed by _The Sun_ when they published photos of the footballer kissing confirmed boyfriend and tech mogul, Konstantin Kimura Petrov, the CEO of The Daiki Company. Since then, the footballer has confirmed he has every intention of suing the journalist, the magazine, and the woman who stole and sold the picures. On radio show, Dorian Speaks, popstar and boybander, Cris Emerson, and actor, Charlie Beck, longtime friend of Kimura-Petrov, spoke out about the ethics of outing. “It’s always been an agreed upon ‘off-limits’ topic, but it isn’t set in stone. It’s always just been assumed, I think that if you have evidence, you follow the official party line, maybe it’s time that changed,” Emerson expressed, going on to say: “Look, I know personally that obviously for a lot of young people in the entertainment industry closeting isn’t a choice. You sign contracts without realizing the implications that lock you into it, but no one wants to be or deserves to be toss out to the wolves like that.” Charlie Beck agreed with Emerson, stating, “The industry’s disgusting, but that doesn’t give the press free reign! You don’t get to drag someone out before they’re ready, famous or not. It’s not your business or anyone else’s.” Both concluded by siding with Bailey’s actions and affirming that they hope the upcoming court case creates a precedent for the media to abide by.

**Anonymous commented:** Look at Charlie Beck talking like he’s already out!

**mybabeschazza commented:** That’s my boy!

**angie_morrocco commented:** Here we fucking go. He’s dating Elena Valence (ELENA VALENCE !!!!!!!) just because someone supports the LGBT community doesn’t mean he’s gay!

**whatsayyou commented:** In terms of gay I lean more towards patty than chaz

**anonymous commented:** That’s what people said about Cris Emerson too…

**AdrianaKnowsBest commented:** Cris Emerson is pan

**Anonymous commented:** Cris Emerson was fucking his bff. That’s really more the point Chiquita banana but nice try

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

Cc: xavier.wilson@redlettermgmt.org

From: shannongallagher@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Elena Meetup

Your management is upset at your valiant defense of the LGBT community on Bailey’s behalf. Harry, on the other hand, says it’s good press. While he’s dealing with managing Bailey’s coming out as smoothly as possible I’ll be the primary point of contact unless it’s an emergency. You have an outing arranged with Elena Valence for this upcoming Saturday when she premieres her ‘Make You Mine’ music video. You’re going to take her out to a celebratory dinner and then meet some of yours and her friends at a nightclub. Aaron’s confirmed he’ll pick you up.

Best,

Shannon Gallagher

* * *

Playing a character in his free time was a bit of a bitch, Charlie decided halfway through dinner when he had to juggle Patrick’s passive-aggressive text messages mixed in with Salem’s little protégé, ie. Raleigh, using Patrick’s tablet to send a combination of Snapchats of him, Snow, and his Kylo Ren plushie at a tea party with his Sven doll and a bunch of triceratops all while keeping an American pop princess entertained and infatuated.

Honestly, Charlie was already so over tonight.

Everything looked beautiful, which he’d expected from London’s poshest and most exclusive restaurants, the Chiltern Firehouse, strange mixed of down home character with the exposed white brick walls, farmhouse wood on the bar, doors, and windows, and the light bulbs hanging from the ceiling with their wires exposed, and elegant yet homey expensive flare with its abundance of plants, flawless and unmarred tables and round, plush benches, and muted contrasting dark and light color palette.

Even Elena, Charlie reluctantly conceded, looked beautiful. She’d shown up in a nude Diane von Furstenberg lace cocktail dress, an egg blue Alexander McQueen leather moto jacket, and Swarovski crystal encrusted cage sandal high heels. Her ringlets had been straightened and highlight with red, twisted up into a high ponytail that swung with the movement of her hips and brushed the small of her back.

Elena fluttered her eyelashes and smiled softly at him, sending a pang through him in sheer mortification, even as his lips twisted up into a smile, responding in kind. Resting an elbow on the table, she shifted closer to him, pressing their thighs together and placing her chin on her hand as she watched him with a quiet lust that unsettled him and a disbelief like she couldn’t believe she’d gotten ahold of him.

Except she hadn’t.

Not really.

Charlie tossed his hair out of his eyes – he needed a haircut – and smiled up at the waiter charmingly. “Right, sorry, I got distracted,” Elena chuckled and placed her hand over his, and the waiter smiled kindly at them with understanding that didn’t match reality. Charlie had issues with this and forced himself not to consider that this waiter would be giving out information to Maggie Gallagher about how adorable and all over each other they were by the end of the night. “Can we start with the steak tartare and the firehouse Caesar salad?”

The waiter nodded and jotted it down on his notepad. “Have you decided on drinks?”

Humming thoughtfully, Charlie slanted a glance towards Elena. “I’m thinking the Dashamour, you?”

Elena frowned, “Which one is that?” She rested a hand lightly, possessively on his forearm, and Charlie fought back the instinctual urge to shake it off as she studied flipped through the menu for the cocktail list.

“The one with jalapeno,” he smiled at her.

She shuddered and drew back. “Isn’t there a strawberry one?”

The waiter’s eyebrows rose as he looked between them, and Charlie smirked over at Elena who shrugged innocently. “The non-alcoholic one?” Elena tilted her head back and groaned, and Charlie nodded with a laugh, turning to the waiter with a bright smile. “The Petit Bisou for her please.”

Nodding and smiling like he thought they were adorable, the waiter replied, “Of course, sir, right away. Would you like a carafe of water as well?”

Charlie looked to Elena who nodded, “Yes please.”

“Sparkling or flat?”

“Flat, please,” Charlie said while Elena rested her chin on his shoulder. “And ice for the backwards American.”

Elena gaped and slapped his arm while his grinned impishly, allowing her to thread their fingers together as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Charlie’s stomach turned.

This whole endeavor walked a delicate line that constantly had Patrick feeling insecure and occasionally spiteful, but Charlie didn’t know how to fix that. He managed to be charming and invitingly open enough to put Elena at ease and blissfully unaware that all the touches were ones that she initiated and the kisses few and far between. It seemed to be working as she hadn’t even been mildly put off when she’d asked him once over dinner in a small voice what they were to each other, and his only response had been a soft smile, a kiss to her knuckles, and a deliberately vague reply of “well, fuck, Elena, what do _you_ think?”

The one time she’d pushed for sex, Charlie had gotten wasted during their dinner and had had the bartender call Patrick to come and bring him home. Rosie had coached him through how to avoid the subject for the time being by saying that he’d never been this serious with a girl before (truth) and he wanted to take things slow (like glacier slow) and make sure they had a real, deep connection before doing anything that they might regret ( _yesyesyes_ ).

Elena had burst into tears and thrown herself into his arms saying what a great idea that was.

Patrick and Charlie had sent Rose the Wordsmith Silvertongue a wine and chocolate gift basket that had resulted in a picture of her and Harry, boozed up to their eyeballs and brandishing half eat chocolate bars and champagne flutes in matching giraffe onesies.

In reality, his attempts to put meager distance between them hardly mattered at all since the closeness that made the news still made Patrick’s head spin almost as much when he thought about all the touches and comments that they shared when cameras were _off_ to keep this charade up.

It made things a million times worse that Patrick felt like he needed to know everything they’d said, where they’d gone, who they’d met, how many times they’d touched. Charlie only told him what he thought he needed to know and what he thought he could handle.

In that order.

His reluctance to foul Patrick’s mood by talking about Elena had started more than a few arguments, which Dr. Archibald Carrow, Raleigh’s therapist, told them they’d have to learn to table.

Raleigh pretended he never heard anything, but they’d both noticed he’d gone quieter since their arguing had picked up, though not the extent until Dr. Carrow had explained. _That_ had prompted their first truly serious discussion with their son where they’d sat him down and explained that just because they were fighting didn’t mean anything. They still loved each other, still loved him, and no one was going anywhere.

For the first time, they’d watched Raleigh break down in tears before lobbing himself into their arms.

But if Charlie had thought that discussion would help with anything, it certainly hadn’t.

The whole household was on edge, and Charlie couldn’t blame anyone.

_That might be half the problem_ , he mused.

“I’m thinking something light since we’re going out after,” Elena told him offhandedly, dragging his attention back.

The waiter swept in suddenly, dropping their starters on the table and their drinks, which Charlie reached for without preamble.

Elena took a bite of the steak tartare and moaned delightedly, drawing a genuine smile from Charlie as he side-eyed her. Charlie didn’t dislike her, though he certainly resented the situation and Elena by extension if not quite as personally as Patrick did (as if her presence in Charlie’s life cemented that Patrick wasn’t good enough). Still, the two qualities about Elena Valence that drew his genuine appreciation and amused were her fashion choices – they could talk fashion and styling for _hours_ – and her unrepentant love of food, _all kinds_ not just the fancy dishes.

“Have you decided?”

“I think so,” Elena turned to Charlie with a grin. “Babe?”

“Um…” Charlie stuttered over the term of endearment that he hadn’t touched with a ten-foot pole since Salem. “Yes…I…yeah,” he swallowed his discomfort and nodded succinctly, looking up at the waiter. “Sorry, yes, can I get the aged-beef fillet?”

“Of course.”

“And Elena wants something light. Fish maybe?” He asked her.

Elena shrugged, “Have you ever had monkfish?”

“I have.”

“Is it good?”

“Maybe,” Charlie teased coyly.

Rolling her eyes and grinning, Elena punched Charlie lightly in the side, twining their fingers together and pecking him on the cheek. Charlie blushed. She awed at him, beaming brightly up at the waiter with a slight pink tint to her cheek. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” the waiter promised.

“I’ll take the monkish over pine please.”

The waiter nodded and disappeared as Charlie’s phone pinged with a Snapchat from Patrick.

Elena peered at him, inquisitive and curious, but Charlie found himself too enthralled and bemused by the Snapchat to chide her.

He bit back a laugh at the sight of half Raleigh’s face too close up to the camera and grinning proudly as he stuck his face in the lens and littered with half-completed multi-colored lines and swirls he’d aborted when he realized taking his finger off the screen ended the drawing. The second Snap had obviously been taken by Patrick of Raleigh frowning at the open Snapchat app on Patrick’s tablet with a message labeled ‘the munchkin spends too much time with Salem.’

Laughing, Charlie pulled up his messages and quickly typed out a message to Patrick.

**Charlie:** U sent that magnificence to Sale rite?

**Patrick:** Haha no but I sent him a vid of munchkin screaming @the laptop

Shaking his head, Charlie shook his head and took a screenshot for Salem, sending it off to him.

**Salem:** Little man is my fav human being.

**Salem:** Should give him my company.

**Charlie:** I’m telling Izumi.

**Salem:** Fuck you no! She’d slit my throat during the night.

Beside him, Elena laughed. Charlie flipped his phone off quickly and crooked his eyebrow at Elena, knowing his expression was carefully guarded the way it _shouldn’t_ be if he was trying to convince a woman he wouldn’t touch that he was half in love with her.

Recognizing her error, Elena flushed and cleared her throat, raising her chin with feigned confidence as she gave him an uneasy smile.

“He’s a cute kid.”

The words were a peace offering, but Charlie didn’t bite, narrowing his eyes on her even more.

Her expression grew more uncertain as she hedged carefully. “He doesn’t look like you.”

Charlie _wanted_ to snap at her, but instead, he reigned in his wayward emotions as he admitted, “He’s my boy…best friend’s son.”

Elena’s expression melted into a sweet smile. “That’s so sweet. It’s nice that you two are so involved in each other’s lives. You love him then?”

“Yeah,” Charlie admitted honestly, his voice cracking as he smiled slightly and shook his head. “Raleigh’s such an amazing kid. I’m absolutely blessed to have him and Patty in my life. They’re my whole world, you know?”

Laughing delightedly, though he could see a measure of weighted hesitance in her eyes, making a mental note to scale back his blatant adoration for his family.

Clearing her throat, Elena visibly shook off her discomfort with the amount of warmth and love imbued in that single statement. She smoothed a hand over her hair anxiously while Charlie sipped his drink and pasted on a reassuring, warm smile, cringing internally as he reached out to grasp her hand in his. The popstar tensed before melting with a warm smile, popping a crouton into her mouth with an exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows that had Charlie breaking out into genuine laughter.

With a timid shrug and a shy smile, Elena said, “I feel the same way about my brothers. One of them is my step-brother, mind you. Mikala. Kala,” she self-corrected with a sarcastic eye roll that spoke of long-standing disagreements and sibling familiarity that Charlie wasn’t at all unfamiliar with. She shook her head slightly and waved off her words. “And my baby brother, David. He’s ten years younger than me, and I think we could have fallen into a rut where either our relationship was bizarrely parental or we didn’t really _know_ each other. Instead, he’s my best friend.”

“That’s sweet.”

With a bright grin, Elena nodded profusely as she hummed thoughtfully and slanted Charlie an adoring, bright smile that had less to do with his presence this time than thoughts of her baby brother. “He’s coming on tour with me this year. Convinced my mom that he’d learn more being homeschooled on the road, and I don’t disagree, but I think it’s more likely he’ll spend more time fiddling with the lights or tinkering with the sound equipment than touring museums across Europe and Asia, you know?”

“Most kids aren’t into that kind of stuff anyway, are they?” Charlie inquired with sincerity. He didn’t remember having any interest in museums when he’d been younger. Of course, Charlie had been going to fashion shows and movie premiere and interviews with the most sought after hosts in the world. It wasn’t the least bit surprising he didn’t quite know what normal children were into.

“Probably not!” Elena laughed, shaking her head. “David’s always been like that, though. Loves military history. Up until he started taking apart laptops.”

“Hey, it’s a lucrative field. My best friend used to pick apart laptops. Now he owns a multibillion dollar company,” Charlie raised his glass.

Elena balked for a moment. “Oh my God! Right! I totally forgot you know Konstantin Kimura-Petrov!” She smiled and thanked the waiter as he appeared with their dinners and left them on the table with an encouraging smile that only sent a pang of guilt through Charlie. As she turned back to him, Elena shook her head sadly, cutting into her monkfish delicately. Charlie discreetly took a picture of the bizarre, pale dish that looked a little like a poorly folded plastic bag sticking up topped with melted vanilla ice cream and a line of Guinea pig droppings. It didn’t _look_ appetizing, but Elena seemed to like it. “It’s crazy what’s been happening with him and his boyfriend. That soccer player? Arthur.”

“Bailey,” Charlie corrected absently, gently moving aside the foliage on his plate that covered the bleeding slices of meat on his plate.

“Yeah, Bailey. I caught the tail end of yours and Cris Emerson’s speech about the press and the industry dealing with closeted gay celebrities, and I really appreciate it. I put a call to my manager and asked if she could change the contract…with Maggie Gallagher. I don’t at all condone what she did. I can’t abide by it. Lira says she’ll be in touch with Alexander Sullivan from Sterling and Ireland soon to talk it over.”

“Really?” Charlie gaped in shock.

She poured herself a glass of water and took a sip demurely as she nodded. “Of course. My step-brother, Kala, he’s gay. Said he was bi forever because it kept his manager off his back, but he came out to the family as fully gay this year.” Noticing Charlie’s confused frown, Elena clarified, “Kala’s an actor.”

It took a minute for the dots to connect but when it did, Charlie’s mouth fell open. “Mikala Hina’s your step-brother?”

“You know him? He didn’t mention that.”

“Not really. We’ve met at a couple parties, but I might be working with him this summer on a project…depending on my schedule.” Charlie admitted.

Beaming, Elena reached over and laced their fingers together, smiling sweetly. “That’s good. I think you two would really get along.” Charlie took a bite of his steak and followed it up with a long drink wondering how much more complicated this could possibly get.

* * *

 

  **Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

First time @YinAndYangClub with @13poppies @CharlieBeck @DorianII @Kanani_Pahala @PenneyDear

 From where Poppy had taken up position at the bar, her eyes followed Charlie with suspicion as he sidled up to her, detaching himself with a tap to her hip and a wry smile. He kissed her cheek in greeting, and her eyebrows rose.

“How was your evening then?”

Charlie didn’t bother to answer his sister, leaning around her to catch the bartender’s eye. “Do you have Bourbon?” The girl nodded with a bemused expression, and Charlie sighed gratefully, “Lovely, can I have a Bourbon?”

“Straight?” The bartender gaped.

“Only if you don’t have absinthe.”

“That’s illegal.”

Under Poppy’s alarmed gaze, Charlie nodded and told the bartender tonelessly and a tad impatiently: “Then, yes, darling, straight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Raleigh's technical date of birth (and year, coincidentally) chapter 43. Happy birthday!


	44. "Coming Home" by Sigma ft. Rita Ora

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kelsie Klein makes a valiant return...or is dragged back by Harry and company whichever

**Text message from Elena**

**Elena:** My manager assures me the contract with MG has officially been severed.

**Charlie:** I know! My publicist just sent me the email

**Elena:** It’s for the best considering how close we both are to this issue

**Elena:** I’m sorry your bff’s sis is such a schmuck

**Charlie:** Yeah us dropping her means a lot to him

**Charlie:** He’s close to a lot of closeted industry ppl

**Elena:** Glad to be of service. Can’t wait to meet the man behind the curtain.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

No. Just no. And for argument’s sake no. And let me clarify: NO

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ this better be personal and not about my show

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@notthecountry hand to God I swear it is so

 

**Group MMS between Shannon, Ra-Ra, Brian, Adam, and Patrick**

**Adam:** My sister says Aunt Kennedy’s completely losing her shit over Patty and Maggie

**Ra-Ra:** Omfg whaaaaat nooooow?????

**Shannon:** Salem and Bailey are suing her. Chaz got her access revoked.

**Brian:** Damn cuz…

**Adam:** But gran and granddad are thrilled at the new addition

**Ra-Ra:** U bringing my baby for xmas?

**Brian:** Are we DOING family xmas?

**Patrick:** I invited gran and granddad to London for xmas so we could all stay here & they could meet Chaz and Raleigh

**Adam:** I’d be down with this!

**Brian:** Can I bring my gf?

**Ra-Ra:** You’ve known the girl for like a day calm down little bro

**Patrick:** I don’t really care what my mam’s issues are. I tried to fix them anyway

 

**MY SHIPPER HEART (@Chalena_xx)**

My bae @e_valence1997 and my love @CharlieBeck spotted at her kickoff concert at the O2!!!!!!! #iloveit #justgetmarried

 

**Debunk bullshit (@mygaycelebship)**

After Kanani/Bailey Cris/Davina/Willamina/Alina are we still pretending this Charlie/Elena thing is a thing? #callingpr #debunked

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: alexandersullivan@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Keslie Klein Parental Rights

We’ve found Kelsie Klein, and she’s been compelled by her mother to return to the UK, probably to ask for money and not her son, but she’s (and her mother) are willing to meet with you at your earliest convenience to “discuss” signing away her rights. They’ve already signed NDAs about what goes on during the meeting and about your shared history. So whenever you boys are good let me know.

Alexander Sullivan

* * *

“Kylo Ren! You’ve arrived!” Salem called out joyfully as he plucked the giggling little boy out of Patrick’s arms and tossed him in the air, narrowly catching him and smirking when Patrick and Charlie both reached out instinctively. He settled Raleigh on his hip and leaned against the reception desk where Adrienne Montgomery watched them with a bemused expression and a shake of her head. “Your parents are being all jumpy and shit, little man.”

“Language, Salem,” Adrienne admonished. “He’s a _child_.”

“Yes, but I think that we should talk to children like adults so there’s never a knowledge disconnect, you know?” Salem retorted, waggling his eyebrows at Adrienne.

Patrick frowned, “I don’t think that’s what that means.”

Charlie scoffed and side-eyed Patrick with a look that wordlessly conveyed what a hypocrite he was. Patrick squeezed Charlie’s side lightly with an impish smirk.

Salem pointed at him with narrowed eyes. “Find a new babysitter, then.”

“No!” Raleigh whined, throwing his arms around Salem’s neck and holding on tightly, shooting Patrick and Charlie a disgruntled look from where he seemed to be trying to fuse his head into Salem’s neck. “I stay with Uncle Sale. Favorite uncle.”

Fluttering his eyelashes at them delighted, Salem preened and pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s cheek. Charlie shook his head at his best friend, turning to Adrienne. “I can’t believe he has you in the office on a Saturday.”

Adrienne shrugged with a bored expression. “Part of the job. I don’t have to take any calls, but I have to be here to let the little engineers into the lab, and they’re here _always._ One of them even came in on Christmas Eve last year and spent the night there working on equations.” She rolled her eyes while Patrick raised his eyebrows at her. What work ethic. She caught the look and told him, “I told that punk where the spare key was, you kidding?”

Patrick laughed, and Salem shook his head as he smiled at Adrienne without the slightest hint of reproach. The receptionist smiled back, and they shared a look that spoke legions on her future in the company. Charlie had told Patrick that Salem almost had viable proof that Georgia had been the leak, Salem’s ex turned wayward (and terrible) assistant always in debt and never able to pay her rent on time, and that the most likely person to be instated at Salem’s new personal assistant was Adrienne as she practically ran most of the office anyway.

Maybe Charlie had a point.

Salem turned back to Patrick and Charlie with a wry smile. “Whatever, little man and I are not going to stay here all day. We’ll leave for Emirates Stadium in a few since Bailey has a game today.”

“You _still_ haven’t gotten me tickets for that,” Adrienne pointed out.

“I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you,” Salem deadpanned. Patrick and Charlie shared a wry look as the tech mogul turned to Raleigh. “What do you think, Kylo? You want to go see Uncle Bailey play football?”

Raleigh’s eyes went wide as he nodded, “Arsenal! Yes!”

“No,” Patrick whined and fake-pouted, “Manchester United!”

His son’s eyes narrowed on him before he enunciated carefully. “Daddy, _no_ ,” he sounded genuinely distressed by Patrick’s chosen team.

Charlie chuckled and poked Patrick’s side, “Looks like you’re going to have to switch loyalties.”

Patrick balked at his boyfriend, affronted by the mere suggestion. “Excuse you? That’s not how it _works_ Chaz.”

Rolling his eyes, Charlie shared a commiserating look with Salem who hadn’t even been mildly interested in the sport until he’d started dating one of its best players. Salem’s only response to Charlie was a short bark of laughter and a finger pointed at the analog clock above their heads. “Should you two be going to your appointment?”

Patrick nodded and pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s forehead. “You have a good time with Uncle Salem, okay? Call if you need anything, munchkin.” Raleigh smiled shyly and nodded his head.

“We love you lots,” Charlie kissed his cheek and tickled his sides lightly. Raleigh giggled and squirmed in Salem’s hold until Charlie pulled away and looked at Salem. “Kylo Ren’s in the bag we left in your office. He’s got juice, cereal, raisins, and an orange in there, obviously you’ll have to peel it for him. A hat in case it gets chilly, a scarf, and gloves.”

“Fucking hell, go!” Salem exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “This is not my first day babysitting my godson. Go away!”

“Right,” Charlie nodded while Patrick laced their fingers together and tugged his struggling boyfriend towards the door. Raleigh didn’t even glance at them, too busy studying the shocking lilac locks Salem had tucked under a _How To Train Your Dragon_ beanie. “Okay, play nice.”

Salem flipped Charlie off playfully behind Raleigh’s back, and Patrick closed the door behind them as they stepped out into the hallway and over to the lift.

Patrick looked over at Charlie as he clutched his hand and worried his lip between his teeth. With a warm smile, Patrick turned Charlie to face him and captured his lips for a kiss that he didn’t break until Charlie’s tension gave way as he melted into Patrick. As the lift dinged in warning, Patrick tugged Charlie inside as the small group of what could undoubtedly be Charlie’s engineers carrying bags of McDonald’s walked out. Izumi waved at them brightly from the middle of the crowd, and they managed to wave back as the doors slid shut.

“It’ll be okay,” Patrick promised quietly.

“You think so?” Charlie demanded skeptically.

Smiling over at him anxiously, he confessed, “I _hope_ so.”

Sterling and Ireland being in the same building as The Daiki Company off of Piccadilly wasn’t at all coincidental. Harry and Rosie might have more integrity than most people in the industry, but with an upright moral compass came the need to play dirty to make up the difference. Charlie had told Patrick that half the time he spoke to Salem these days, the man was ‘working on a project’ in Sterling and Ireland’s penthouse office space. Whatever it was Harry wanted hacked, though, Patrick preferred to live his life in blissful ignorance; he never asked any question about it and didn’t think either man would confess to it regardless.

The lift doors opened directly into the penthouse off space that Sterling and Ireland had claimed, and Patrick took a moment to frown at the décor. The walls were gray brick, the windows let in a flood of natural light that managed to effectively render the rainbow glass lights dangling from the ceiling useless.

Most of the floor plan was open consisting of a large L-shaped sofa and a coffee table with a television mounted on the wall and two large armchairs beside a see-through carved wall divider that distorted the view of the small kitchenette. A smattering of plants dotted around the room, but clearly no one in the office had a green thumb since most of them save for a cactus and a couple of bamboo trees appeared half dead.

In the center of the room were four desks across from a handful of file cabinets and a massive safe. Several waste bins sat dead in the center of the floor surrounded by an array of paper balls. Rosie Ireland’s desk was the easiest to pick out as it was an antique writing desk with several stacks of books, two laptops (one of which Patrick _knew_ Daiki hadn’t released yet) and stacks upon stacks of papers with colored highlighters and sticky notes sitting on top. The other three desks were traditional L-shaped workstations with paperwork spread out across the tops, desktop computers, and impressive Starbucks coffee cup collections. Only two rooms other than the corner bathroom near the print station were enclosed: a glass-walled conference room with the semi-transparent shades pulled down and the corner office where Alexander Sullivan worked his legal magic.

Shannon leaned against her coworkers desk with a mug of steaming coffee in hand, teasing him about his love life and looking surprisingly more put together than Patrick was used to seeing her. Her red hair had been twisted up into a ponytail, and instead of her usual jeans and a t-shirt, she wore a herringbone skirt and a gray jumper along with tights and a pair of knee-high boots.

Charlie cocked his head and pursed his lips, eyes sliding to Patrick as he nodded proudly, “Topshop.”

“Oh, you’re here!” Rosie Ireland exclaimed as she walked out of the kitchen with a mound of softshell tacos on a paper plate, looking every inch the attempt at professional that had fallen quickly into casual considering her woolen tunic and platform Keds, her twisted up locks held with a pen.

Shannon and Brandon startled, looking over at Charlie and Patrick. His cousin gave him a finger wave while Brandon leaned back in his chair with a bemused look, though he kept his mouth shut.

“Nice noobs,” Rosie chastised the pair of them, “didn’t even notice them.” Rolling her eyes, she pointed towards the door of the conference room. “Go on in, Sullivan’s in there waiting on ya’ll with the Klein clan.”

“Thanks, Rosie,” Charlie beamed. Rosie colored, rolled her eyes, and waved him off as Patrick scoffed at his boyfriend’s flirtations and prodded him to the door.

With one hand on the small of Charlie’s back, Patrick reached out to open the door, both of them startling when Alexander Sullivan yanked it open before they could touch it.

The firm’s solicitor looked from Patrick to Charlie to Rosie before settling back on them. “Good, you’re here. Come in,” Sullivan took a step back to admit them.

Walking passed him and into the room, Patrick’s eyes immediately went to the two women across the table, seated side-by-side, wearing twin looks of smug determination. The younger of the two, Kelsie, Patrick didn’t remember _at all_ , which probably said all it needed to about his younger years sowing wild oats.

Best not to go back to that.

Kelsie Klein appeared frail enough to break with a single touch, as much a skeleton as Raleigh had been upon arrival with skin so pale that it practically blended into the glossy white table top she’d set it down on. Her dyed blonde, unbrushed waves of hair fell to her shoulders and the solid inch of exposed root was a jarring mahogany beside a washed out straw yellow. She had on a nose ring and labret lip piercing. Her large hoop earrings brushed the shoulders of her oversized, holey magenta jumper, and drew attention to the massive spider’s web tattoo on her neck.

The young woman scratched an arm and appraised him coldly.

Frankie Klein seemed considerably more substantial of the pair of them and the one with an obvious intention in drawing out this farce. Frankie was a chav, slightly heavy set, a nest of greasy brown hair in desperate needed attention held back primarily by a bandana, trainers, and a tracksuit that had been unzipped to reveal a t-shirt two sizes too small. Her lip curved up in a sneer as she focused her gaze first on Patrick before shifting it to Charlie, making Patrick tense under and his face darkened.

Charlie, it seemed, found no reason to react to the look at all beyond accepting the glass of water Sullivan handed him graciously and leaning back in his chair with an even, unconcerned smile that put both Frankie and her daughter on edge.

“And where’s my grandson? Left ‘im at ‘ome, ‘ave ya?” Frankie demanded.

It was going to be a long day if she didn’t pronounce her ‘h’s.

Charlie raised his eyebrows and retorted smoothly, “Not wandering Argos.”

Kelsie glared at him.

“I didn’t realize custody disputes where the in-place to bring children, guess I’ll just recall him from attending Arsenal’s football match,” Patrick retorted sarcastically.

“You sent a child to a football match?” Frankie demanded shrilly.

Patrick rolled his eyes while Charlie gave Frankie a deeply disbelieving look. “Of course. Handed him the keys and told him to have a good time, have a beer on us,” Charlie bit back a startled laugh while Sullivan shook his head and sat down in the chair beside Patrick, placing several manila file folders on the table. At Frankie’s outraged expression, Patrick sat up and glared at her. “I sent _my son_ to sit in an air-conditioned, catered luxury box at Emirate’s Stadium, not that it’s any of your business since you didn’t protest him being abandoned in a department store.”

“He’s alive, innit‘e?” Kelsie finally snapped.

“By a miracle,” Charlie pointed out evenly. “He could have been kidnapped and killed by anyone. Anything could have happened to him in that store, you realize that, right? Or are we all still trying to justify your self-centered need to split from responsibility like it’s a reasonable and righteous thing to do?”

“And who are _you_?” Frankie demanded, slapping her hand on the table and pointed at him. Patrick narrowed his eye furiously on the older woman, not at all willing to standby for anyone disrespecting Charlie, no matter how ambivalent his boyfriend seemed with the numerous attempts.

Kelsie sniffed imperiously, “You brought your best friend to a custody hearing.”

“Who was I supposed to bring? My mam?” He returned, smirking as she went red and scowled at him.

“Settle down children,” Sullivan sighed, drawing everyone’s attention with his lazy, American drawl. He smiled wearily. “You’re not actually here to bicker like little children. You’re here to talk about the custody of Raleigh Dashiell Klein…in addition to some other things.”

“We’re not signing away ‘er rights,” Frankie spat.

“And why not?” Sullivan spoke curiously before Patrick could.

“I’m ‘is gran!” She exclaimed.

Charlie rolled his eyes, “Yeah, gran? And where were you when he was being abandoned in Argos? Or when he was being malnourished? Or when he was so cold his fingers went numb for hours?”

Frankie glared, and Patrick reached over beneath the table and clutched his boyfriend’s hand in his. Kelsie startled and demanded furiously, “Where did you hear _that_?”

“Raleigh,” Patrick and Charlie said together.

“He don’t talk,” Keslie remarked aghast, her head turning towards her mother.

“He does now,” Sullivan said flatly. “Which brings me to the question of why a three year old wasn’t talking when he was obviously _capable_ of it?” Kelsie flushed angrily while her mother narrowed her eyes on Sullivan. Their lawyer shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. “You don’t need to answer. What I want to know is what you want if you refuse to sign away your rights? Where do you envision this demand actually going?”

Kelsie glanced to her mother before chirping. “I want my son ‘ome with me, and I want ‘im,” she glared at Patrick who rolled his eyes, “to pay child support.”

Charlie dug his nails into Patrick’s hand to keep _both_ of them from laughing, and Sullivan stared at her in disbelief before shaking his head. “No. First of all, that child will never live with you again. A psychologist can testify in court, but it probably wouldn’t even be necessary. You _abandoned_ him in a _department store_ and fled the country after years of systematic neglect that your _mother_ here ought to have seen, and if she _didn’t_ then she’s not fit to raise him either. Don’t be ridiculous. Try again.”

“I want to see ma grandson, and ma daughter wants to see ‘er boy,” Frankie spat indignantly.

Patrick’s gaze went to Charlie as he shook his head. “They want the publicity that’ll come attached to him when he hits the press.” He nodded in agreement but kept quiet, trusting Sullivan.

Sullivan stared at the pair of them silently before shaking his head. “Do you know child neglect and abandonment is a criminal offence in the UK? You could be fined, which according to your financials would actually be worse case scenario, or go to jail. You’re asking for things I’m unwilling to give to you for a number reasons, and that judge wouldn’t even consider, got me?”

Kelsie paled and looked to her mother.

Frankie scoffed and smirked, “Yeah, but you don’t want this goin’ ta court, do ya? That’s why we’re all in this big fancy office, ain’t it?”

“No, Mrs. Klein, _you_ don’t want us going to court,” Sullivan gave her a toothy smile, turning to Kelsie. “In addition to child abandonment and neglect, you lived with a man who admitted to physically harming your child. That makes you an accessory to child abuse. You’re £20,000 in credit card debt that you had no intention of paying back while taking a Jobseeker’s Allowance that you didn’t use to keep the utilities on it your house. You stole money from your boyfriend’s bank account so that you could flee the country when the police went looking for you. Do you really want to go to court?”

Charlie crooked an eyebrow while Patrick leaned towards him and whistled lowly.

Keslie’s face purpled with rage, and Frankie narrowed her eyes on Sullivan. “And if I want ‘im? I know ‘im. I’ve been around ‘im all his life.” She sniffed at Charlie and Patrick derisively, but Patrick wasn’t at all moved. For all Raleigh’s scars from his early childhood, he’d never once mentioned his grandmother…also Patrick was sure that Frankie was into _something_ shady.

Naturally, Sullivan didn’t disappoint.

With a long-suffering sigh, he pulled a folder from the pile and flipped it open, running his finger down the page as he cleared his throat. “Tax evasion. Identity fraud. Vandalism. Theft. Fencing stolen property. Owning an illegal firearm.”

“You can’t know that!” Frankie screeched.

Except they certainly did _now_.

Kelsie face-palmed at her mother’s words.

It took one peek at Charlie’s smug face to know that Salem had been the one to dig up that nugget of information.

“And yet I do,” Sullivan pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, how about we talk about what _I’m_ proposing.”

Kelsie and Frankie, looking equally furious, meet each other’s eyes before shrugging tensely.

“You sign over all your rights to Raleigh on this little paper here,” Sullivan pulled a piece of paper out of a third folder and slapped it on the table. “Sign this form,” he placed a second paper on the table, “about how you’ll never talk about this meeting, Patrick, or Raleigh in the press, and this all goes away. Patrick pays off your credit card debit, and we kindly don’t tell the Ipswich authorities that you’re back in the country and let them catch up with you eventually.”

Stilling, Kelsie tapped her chipped orange nails on the tabletop anxiously, eyes wide and hopeful. “ _All_ the debt?”

“Just this once,” Sullivan warned.

Biting her lip, Kelsie started to nod slowly when her mother cut her off. “And why can’t you just drop the charges?”

“Mrs. Klein, you’re very confused about who _filed_ these charges,” Sullivan replied.

“And me?”

Sullivan turned to her with a wan smile. “You get to keep your illegal handgun without me calling the cops on you.”

Frankie’s eyes narrowed, and Kelsie nodded, “Deal.”

“No!” Frankie turned to her daughter, furious, “What are you doin’ Kels? I’m not signin’ nothin’.”

“I ain’t goin’ to jail for _your_ pride. Bad enough _you_ told me to keep the little parasite when I find out about ‘im,” Kelsie retorted, pulling the paper to her and picking up the pen Sullivan handed her to sign it with a flourish followed by the NDA that she pushed towards her mother and glared at them. “Sign it.”

With a scowl and reluctance, Frankie signed the NDA.

Patrick squeezed Charlie’s hand and seemed to breathe without weight on his chest for the first time in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Child abandonment being a criminal offense means that the government has filed the charges, which is why Charlie and Patrick can't get them dropped. I will confirm that you won't see anything about her ever again...until I post Raleigh's story where he talks about her mostly because I hate her. I would rather talk about Maggie. Like I despise Kelsie's family, Kelsie herself is just a selfish, self-involved character.


	45. "One Love" by Marianas Trench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh shows his skills. Charlie and Patrick talk by not talking

**Interview with Patrick Gallagher**

**Interviewer:** You’re nearly halfway through filming the final season. How does that feel?

 **Patrick:** Terrifying. Sad. We’ve become a family over the last five years. It’ll be a huge change not to see them every day.

 **Interviewer:** Any idea what you’ll be up to come March when shooting ends?

 **Patrick:** Not even a little! I’ve been looking into project afterwards, but there’s a lot of things to consider.

 **Interviewer:** Do you at least know if you’ll be staying in London?

 **Patrick:** I don’t actually! It’s something to consider, I guess. In terms of my career, I should leave right? ( _laughs_ ) There’s a lot of positives and negatives with staying or going, and a lot of things that need to be considered that haven’t yet. I’ll let you know.

 **Interviewer:** I’ll be waiting for it! Now, here’s the _real_ question.

 **Patrick:** Oh no.

 **Interviewer:** Do you have a girlfriend?

 **Patrick:** Alas, no I do not. It’s okay, girls don’t want to date me anyway. I’m high maintenance.

 

To: alexandersullivan@sterlingandireland.co.uk

From: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Forms and Documents

Chaz and I looked into adoption, which I don’t think we’re actually qualified for yet and would take months to complete since we have to notify our local council 3mo before applying. Whatever. We’ve notified them. Until that gets sorted, I’ve faxed you the paperwork about getting Chaz parental responsibility, and I talked to Raleigh about his name and sent you the paperwork for that (don’t tell Chaz).

Patty

 

**Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

Thanks to @CharlieBeck for surprising me with a visit in Manchester!!!! <3

 

**thischalenathing**

Are the Chatrick shippers ready to call it yet?

#chatrick is dead

**namethestarschatrick**

Chatrick will never die as long as they’re still all over each other in interviews and living with each other

**chazzasbae**

CHARLIE BECK IS NOT GAY

**21greatnoble**

Omfg girl relax. No one said he was.

#but he is so…

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Scotland is so cold! I’m out here freezing my butt off don’t mind me!

 

**Mahon Orion (@MahonOftheStars)**

@CharlieBeck I told you to bring a damn coat dufus.

 

**Patrick Gallager (@StPatty_)**

My pumpkin carving skills are not up to par #thisissosad

* * *

Raleigh sat cross-legged on a picnic table with his nose scrunched up and his head tilted with a frown as he watched Patrick cursing under his breath as he spooned pumpkin guts out of the half-collapsed squash’s interior. He tilted his head back to meet Charlie’s eyes with a skeptical expression. “Daddy no good at this.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Charlie nodded in agreement, sticking his tongue out at his boyfriend when he shot a scowl at the pair of them.

Tugging on Charlie’s sleeve, Raleigh peered thoughtfully down at the steaming cup of mulled wine in his hand. “What this?”

“Mulled wine.”

“I taste?” He asked hopefully.

Charlie shrugged and carefully handed over the Styrofoam to the little boy. Patrick put down his tools, brow furrowing as he watched the three year old take a sip of the drink, pulling away from it with a disgusting expression as he stuck his tongue out and gave Charlie a sad, horrified look. Patrick laughed outright, and Charlie stifled his as he took the cup away from Raleigh. “No to the mulled wine, huh?” Raleigh shook his head profusely, and Charlie shrugged, “Give it a few years.”

The boy seemed skeptical, and Patrick continued laughing, drawing his son’s narrow-eyed fury.

“No laugh, daddy! Mean!” Raleigh declared shortly.

“Yeah, Patrick, stop being such an asshole,” Charlie chimed in while Raleigh nodded in agreement, reaching up to pat Charlie’s arm in thanks for taking his side. Charlie bit his lip to keep from breaking out into a round of laughter.

Patrick pulled in a long breath and forced himself into a sober expression as he nodded at his son. “You’re absolutely right, Raleigh I shouldn’t laugh at your…misfortunes. It’s very rude.”

“Yes,” Raleigh agreed with a huff, collapsing onto the table. “Mine Aucle Is! Daddy mean to me,” he pouted up at Israel as ze came over with Sienna in tow.

Raleigh had taken to Israel’s genderqueerness with aplomb that most adults couldn’t even manage. He’d cocked his head and studied hir with a frown before diving headlong into “are you auntie or uncle” to which Israel had shrugged and responded “both.” And thus ‘aucle’ had been born. Israel had been hopelessly endeared and shot hir mother a text message that had been summed up with ‘for fuck’s sake child, I don’t give a fuck!’ Patrick had raised eyes at that, but Israel had kindly stated that hir mother loved hir unconditionally and couldn’t quite manage to get a handle on the gender-neutral pronouns, but _unlike_ Patrick’s mother, Israel and hirs had talked about it and come to an agreement over it.

Israel tapped Raleigh’s head lightly and smirked down at him. “Tell daddy to stop being mean.”

“I _do_ ,” he huffed. “It okay. Papa love me.”

“Hey! I love you!” Patrick declared with feigned outraged, pointing the pumpkin covered spoon at Raleigh.

With true dramatic flare, Raleigh sat up and tossed himself into Israel’s arms with a feigned scream. “Daddy gon kill me! No kill Raleigh, Daddy!”

The man selling pumpkins looked up along with several parents and laughed at the scene, Raleigh’s lips curving into a smirk as Patrick turned red and narrowed his eyes on his son.

“You think Israel can protect you?”

“Use the Force, Raleigh!” Charlie nudged him playfully.

Sienna crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head as she smothered a laugh.

Raleigh, however, nodded seriously, holding out hand and tilting his head down so that the warm, low setting sun cast a long shadow across his face as his hazel eyes narrowed menacingly on Patrick, the hood dipping lower over his face. It probably didn’t help Raleigh’s dramatic tendencies that both his guardians were actors as Patrick tensed to quick, eyes going wide and choked sounds slipping from his mouth. Raleigh’s lips upturned in a sinister smile as his hand tightened.

Charlie shook his head and stifled laughter, Patrick’s eyes rolling back in his head as his choking grew more pronounced. He noticed more than a few people with their phones out to record the whole event, and his eyes met Patrick’s with a wordless question. The only response from his boyfriend was a cheeky wink and half shrug before turning back to being choked by his son.

“You know,” Sienna whispered as she leaned against Charlie, “you should talk to your agent about him.”

“Sienna,” Charlie growled warningly, with narrowed eyes and a single, curt headshake.

“Just a thought,” she remarked with an easy smile.

Israel looked between them as Raleigh released his Force-hold on Patrick who fell to the ground, coughing and looking up at Raleigh-as-Kylo-Ren fearfully.

Raleigh stood atop the table, tilting up his chin to look down his nose at Patrick. “‘Your son is gone. He was weak and foolish like his father so I destroyed him.’”

Charlie choked on his mulled wine and side-eyed his kid while Israel’s eyebrows rose, his eyes darting to meet first Charlie’s and then Patrick’s with shock that the three year old had remembered that whole line from the movie. _And_ the correct character. _And_ in context.

Patrick’s eyes widened with surprise before he fell into character, shaking his head as he stared up at Raleigh pleadingly. “‘That’s what Charlie wants you to believe.’” Charlie’s mouth fell in surprise, his eyes moving from Raleigh to Patrick. He glared at his boyfriend whose eyes gleamed with amusement but whose face remained straight as he finished. “‘But it’s not true. My son is alive.’”

“‘No,” Raleigh shook his head; his tone conflicted as he looked to Charlie and then back to Patrick. Israel put a hand to hir mouth, bowing over in laughter as Taylor came up beside hir with Scout in tow, her arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised, considering.

“Damn,” Hollis whistled lowly from behind, “look at this kid’s improv.”

“‘The Supreme Leader is wise,’” he told Patrick, voice wavering.

Patrick shook his head and stumbled to his feet. Raleigh drew back anxiously, one hand reaching for Charlie who caught it with an incredulous, growing smile.

_Who even was this kid?_

“‘Charlie’s using you for your power. When he gets what he wants he’ll crush you. You know it’s true,’” Patrick pleaded, and Charlie grinned, eyes going to the sky as he shook his head, not waiting to break the mood by absolutely losing it in the middle of a scene.

Raleigh swallowed and looked down at where Charlie held his hand, eyes watering as he told Patrick brokenly, “‘It’s too late.’”

Taking another step closer to Raleigh who startled, shaking his head and resting a hand on the hilt of his toy lightsaber. He held his hands up, and Raleigh wavered between Charlie and Patrick, teetering on the ledge of the picnic table so much so that Charlie set down his mulled wine in case he needed to catch him but didn’t interrupt. “‘No, it’s not. Leave here with me. Come home. We miss you.’”

When a genuine tear fell from Raleigh’s eye as he shook his head, Charlie met Sienna’s eye and conceded she might have a point about taking Charlie to his agent. The kid had talent, and a memory that startled Charlie. A memory he _shouldn’t_ have at _three_ …not that he hadn’t watched movie about a hundred times.

“‘I’m being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain. I know what…’” Raleigh trailed off, his eyebrows furrowing. Patrick looked to Charlie who ducked his head and hid his mouth behind his hand as he whispered the words to Raleigh quickly. Raleigh recovered quickly and seamlessly, continuing on brokenly, “‘I know what I have to do, but I don’t know if I have the strength to do it.” Taking a breath, Raleigh reached out to Patrick and let him take his hand. He blinked up at him innocently, tears glistening in his eyes. “Will you help me?”

“‘Yes,’” Patrick nodded profusely, “‘Anything.’”

“And cut!” Scout cried, clapping for them.

Raleigh beamed and looked back at the rest of the cast and crew meandering about the small Scottish town they were located in while they shot at Eilean Donan during the day. Clapping his hands and smiling as the assembled crowd clapped for him, Raleigh wrapped an arm around Israel when ze caught hir breath with a bright smile as he looked from Patrick and Charlie to Taylor and Scout. “I do good?”

“My God, little man,” Taylor shook her head, chuckling as she swept him up into her arms. “You did _amazing_. I wish I worked with young actors half as good as you.”

Fluttering his eyes gleefully, Raleigh clasped a hand to his heart and looked back at Patrick and Charlie who looked back at him with pride. Taylor gave them a pointed look that Charlie looked away from, uncomfortable with the implication.

Patrick tilted his head at Charlie as he came up to sit beside him on the bench, stealing his mulled wine and downing the last of it without so much as a wince. He nudged Charlie’s arm with his own, and Charlie smiled at his lap and tried to fight off the demons of his own childhood so as not to imprint on Raleigh’s.

His phone pinged, and Charlie pulled it out of the pocket of his Sandro parka, tensing when he saw the name on the screen and quickly tucking it away.

Patrick’s lips pursed. “That Elena?”

“Drop it,” Charlie shook his head.

“So answer it. Isn’t that the point?” Patrick retorted sourly.

Charlie rolled his eyes and scowled at him. “Why are you pushing this? You knew what this was. Harry explained this to us, none of this is news, Patrick.”

“I know, okay?” He snapped, shaking his head, before running a hand through this hair and sighing. Patrick displaced his beanie, and he glared at it while Charlie shook his head and plucked it off the table and tugged it back over his messy dark hair. Softer, Patrick repeated, “I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. Is she still pushing sex?” Charlie bit his lip and looked at the sky while Patrick asked quietly, “Has she told you she’s in love with you yet?”

For a moment, Charlie studied the carefully managed but undeniably stricken expression on his face. He leaned around his boyfriend to catch Israel and Taylor’s attention where they talked quietly to Raleigh while Hollis and Scout entertained him. Israel tapped the top of Raleigh’s head, and the boy turned to stare at Charlie expectantly. “Is it okay if Daddy and I go for a quick walk?”

“Why?” Raleigh frowned, “I bad?”

“Not at all,” Charlie promised. “We just need to talk about adult things.”

Raleigh nodded slowly, unconvinced but not unwilling. “I stay? Play with friends?”

Charlie grinned and nodded his head, meeting Israel’s eyes. “You got him?”

“ _I’ve_ got him,” Hollis answered, tickling him until he devolved into peels of laughter.

Charlie turned to Patrick and grabbed his hand, tugging him up and away from the crowd who’d come out for Halloween. They kept quiet, each wrapped in their own thoughts as they made their way from the cheery cacophony of the main center of the tiny seaside Scottish town towards the Lochlash Hotel where they were staying, wandering through the half-empty, dimly lit parking lot and towards the down water gently crashing against the rocks.

Without speaking, the climbed over the meager chain to keep them away from the water line, Patrick pulling out his mobile phone and flipping on his flashlight to guide Charlie across the slip of grass on the steep ledge and over to the outcropping of rock. He turned off the light when they settled themselves on the edge beside each, their coats not quite capable of keeping them warm in the dark beside the water.

“Yes,” Charlie admitted finally, “she told me she loved me.”

“You didn’t tell me that.”

No, he hadn’t, but he’d told Harry who’d nodded and said that was good and the whole charade would be over soon.

The problem with telling Patrick about what happened with Elena was the minute if wary affection he held for her. If the situation had been different, Charlie might have been able to have a friendship with her. Elena Valence wasn’t the cold-hearted, ruthless, ambitious celebrity that either of them had wanted to believe. Her and Charlie enjoyed similar things, they got along well enough, and if Charlie hadn’t been gay, he might have even been capable of having a relationship with her.

It upset Patrick more to hear her talked about with anything even resembling genuine enjoyment of her presence; some things Charlie knew he’d have to keep from him to keep his boyfriend from completely flying off the handle. Salem had sent Irial and Cris to their house to have a come-to-Jesus talk with him that had instead been spent playing in the backyard with Raleigh. Charlie had been surprised that the pair hadn’t up and left with him; if Cris wasn’t still often on the road with his band, Irial and Cris would _already_ have a child.

“There’s a lot I _don’t_ tell you about Elena,” Charlie sighed.

He felt more than saw Patrick turn to narrow his eyes at him. “What the fuck do you mean by _that_ , Charlie?”

“You hate her,” he shrugged as he explained plaintively. “And I get why, I do. I just…I’ll tell you anything you want to know when this is over, but right now I need our home to not be a warzone, Patrick. Don’t ask for things that you’ll lose your mind over.”

“How could you not tell me that?” Patrick demanded furiously. “Do you even _want_ this to be over or is this you just getting off on how much everybody loves you?”

Charlie tensed and turned to look at him, trying not to feel too hurt by Patrick. He knew that, for whatever, Patrick felt either threatened or jealous of Elena, maybe both. Of course, Charlie couldn’t quite let go of his issues since he’d managed to deal with Evelyn and Patrick being all over each other – and actually having and _referencing_ their sex life with each other in casual conversation – without being nearly as irrational as Patrick.

“Don’t start with me, Patrick!” Charlie rounded on him angrily. “I’m _gay_. Elena can say she wants sex all day long. She can strip in front of me and give me a lap dance, and I’m going to be thinking about geeky Sci-Fi films and whether or not Israel should have written Siobhan’s dragon being a shapeshifting faery. You don’t _get_ to be jealous about this, because _I_ was _never_ the one who flaunted a girlfriend in front of you for two years and knocked up some random chav. So why don’t you bitch about something worthwhile?”

Patrick barked out a bitter laugh and threw up his hands as he nodded his head. “Why won’t you let Raleigh act?”

“Excuse me?” Charlie drew back in surprise, honestly having not expected that particular line of questioning.

“I’ve noticed your reluctance whenever someone’s mentioned it, asked, brought it up, commented on it offhandedly,” Patrick finished babbling with a huff. “He’s good at it. What if he wants to act? What if he wants to be like us? And he _does_. You just saw him, Chaz; I know you did. He enjoys this, and he’s good at it, and you looked like you swallowed a lemon when Taylor mentioned she wanted to work with him.”

“Look at us,” Charlie exclaimed, tears welling as he shook his head. “We’re so fucked up, Patrick. Whether he’s gay or bi or straight or binary or non-binary or ace, _this_ will be his life. This industry is poison. This industry is PR stunts and endless promo and a thousand ways to screw up your life and _maybe_ one way to make it livable. You didn’t live this lifestyle like I did, Patty. I was offered weed when I was ten, and Ectasy when I was twelve, and I lived my life surrounded by cocaine. When I was almost thirteen, my married forty-nine year old casting director propositioned me to get a role, and the only reason my management even cared was because I had an image to maintain. My first time was with someone twice my age who had a female fiancé because he actually took an interest in me. What kind of life is that, Patty? I mean I worked in _Disney_ and went to parties with cast mates when I’d barely hit my teen years where we had hardcore cocktails and softcore drugs. Do you want that for Raleigh, because I don’t.”

Patrick fell silent, and Charlie stared at what little profile he could see in the dark. With a sigh, Patrick turned to him, resting his cheek on the top of his knees. “I don’t hate Elena. I resent her for getting to have you in public and talk about you during interviews when me offhandedly alluding to you in a vague social media post causes three different publicists and managers calling me to ask me what I’ve done and how I can fix it.”

Sighing, Charlie leaned against Patrick and rested his head on his shoulder, gripping Patrick’s forearm tightly. “I called Harry when she said it, and I know you think you want to know but you don’t. Not really. When this is over, and we both need more therapy than Raleigh then I’ll go over every detail of everything that happened, but right now, we need to be all in this and not let our emotions get in the way of what we need to accomplish. Okay?”

Patrick inhaled roughly and nodded hesitantly. “I’ll try, Chaz. I _know_ I’m being irrational, but…”

Charlie laughed slightly and nodded as he cuddled closer to Patrick who hummed quietly. “But…whatever Pattycake. We’ll just be arguing about this in two weeks anyway.”

“Your fault.”

“Fuck you very much.”

Patrick laughed before trailing off. “We need to talk about Raleigh.” Huffing and shaking his head, Charlie leaned away from Patrick, hackles rising instantly on the subject he wanted nothing to do with. “Hey, no. Don’t _do_ that. He loves it, Chaz, you can see it in his face. What three year old remembers lines like that and recites them, and acts, and _improvs_? _You’re_ not even that good at improv.”

Charlie scowled, “That’s what scripts are for.”

“We need to think about this, because he could be good at this and fucking hell, it’s obvious how much he loves it. Please don’t ask me to help take that away from him.” The words were pleading and plaintive and went straight to Charlie’s heart, but he…couldn’t…he couldn’t forget the sheer nightmare of his childhood where work felt like the escape and home felt like a battle.

With a sigh, Charlie nodded but didn’t verbally respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was my fav partial scene from the new Star Wars between Kylo Ren and Han Solo. Just, ugh, amazing. JJ Abrams made me so happy. Anyway, a chav is like...idk English white trash? They wear track suits and wifebeaters and are generally looked down upon by society. I really don't know how to describe them, neither does anyone else. It had to watch a whole tv show about them to understand what the hell my roommates were talking about.


	46. "Alive" by Sia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh's abandonment issues rear their head and Charlie's makes an appearance

**Patrick Gallagher re-enacts Star Wars…with a toddler!**

While shooting scenes for _Ethereal_ in Scotland’s Eilean Donan castle, Patrick Gallagher was filmed re-enacting the tragic scene between Kylo Ren and his father…with what some are speculating is a three-year-old boy. In the presence of most of his cast mates as well as best friend, Charlie Beck, who Gallagher cast as Sith Lord, Snoke, during his re-enactment with the talented toddler, Gallagher and the unnamed child rehashed eight lines from the movie with only one stumble from the toddler towards the end that resulted in Beck feeding him the final lines. Amazing and adorable, everyone’s thrilled to see our favorite boy getting adorable with children and on Halloween too! The real question has been just who this child belongs to that he’s so comfortable with the cast. It’s been speculated that the toddler belonged to the show’s elusive creator, Israel, or even the executive producer, Taylor Davis. There’s been no official comment from anyone associated with the show.

 

**Text message from His Majesty Clifford**

**His Majesty Clifford:** Why are you texting me your personal woes?

**His Majesty Clifford:** Your boyfriend might have a point.

**Charlie:** Srsly? Srsly? Cliff!

**His Majesty Clifford:** I know what I’m talking about.

**His Majesty Clifford:** Also, as a parent, you will regret holding your child back.

**His Majesty Clifford:** And some day he’ll resent you for it.

**Charlie:** Speaking from experience now?

**His Majesty Clifford:** Do you want me to come meet him?

**Charlie:** Wait, you’re married and have KIDS? When did that happen?

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

And my boy @MahonOftheStars is too busy playing with our child mascot to MAKE HIS CALL TIME

 

**Mahon Orion (@MahonOftheStars)**

@SightsOnSienna we were rehearsing!!!!

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

@MahonOftheStars likely story!

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Harry:** I’ve got all the timeline plans laid out about Raleigh

**Harry:** All your documents have gone through

**Harry:** Quite honestly I don’t want to officially come out about this before you and Chaz come out.

**Patrick:** Is that even possible at this point?

**Harry:** By being vague? Absolutely yes.

**Harry:** Btw this is your fault. I said not to do this shit.

**Patrick:** Raleigh’s decision.

**Harry:** So bad parenting then…

**RT by @CharlieBeck**

**Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

How lucky am I? Thanks for coming to see me in Edinburgh :*

* * *

“‘The beautiful young couple looked _so loved up_ wandering around the streets of historic Edinburgh and stopping for lunch at Mother India’s Café,’” Ra-Ra stopped and cocked her head, turning to glance at Poppy who sat on the kitchen counter poking her finger into the bowl of chocolate mousse Patrick was stirring and smirking when he slapped her hand away. “I heard that café’s supposed to be good. We should go sometime.”

Poppy hummed in agreement, winking at her partner-in-crime.

Brian looked up from where he was hunched over his textbook, nose scrunching as he looked between the two models. Adam glanced up and smirked at his best friend and cousin, shaking his head and turning back to typing out an essay at his laptop, rifling through one of the three open library books he’d spread across the table, drawing more than a few annoyed scowls from Raleigh whose preferred method of coloring was to sprawl half over the table with his crayons petered out around him.

“Can you two stop being grossly domestic?” Brian whined.

Poppy and Ra-Ra stuck their tongues out at him as one, and Patrick paused in stirring to look between the two women suspiciously. He turned to Brian and pointed the chocolate-covered spoon at him. “You know something I don’t?”

“Lots of somethings,” Brian replied smugly, shooting a glance to his sister.

“Yeah, one of you went to university,” Adam added without looking up. Brian beamed at him proudly.

Patrick turned to frown at them, and Ra-Ra cleared her throat and buried her nose back in her tablet. “‘According to sources close to the couple, Charlie left from Kyle of Lochalsh in the Northwest of Scotland on the Sound of Sleat to watch Valence’s final two concerts in Edinburgh to spend the long weekend together. “They have a lot of fun together, of course, they’re young and attractive, but more than that, they’re head over heels, in for the long haul,” a friend of the couple shared.’”

“Who comes up with this stuff?” Poppy declared, licking stolen mousse off her finger and waggling her eyebrows at Patrick when he scowled at her.

“Tabloid journos,” Adam called from the table.

“My sister,” he returned.

Poppy hummed and nodded.

Raleigh huffed, and Patrick turned to his son automatically. His son had on Kylo Ren pajamas, clutching his Kylo Ren plushie, drinking hot cocoa from a Kylo Ren mug, and with his Kylo Ren blanket wrapped around him. All of which had been a surefire sign of an impending breakdown that Patrick had been anxiously waiting for since he’d gone to bed in Charlie’s Kylo Ren hoodie while blasting _Star Wars_ music at an obscene decibel. His big hazel eyes, bright with unshed tears met Patrick’s as his lip trembled.

He handed off the mousse to Ra-Ra who set it on her hip and stirred furiously as Patrick leaned against the kitchen island and raised his eyebrows at his son. “Talk to me, Raleigh.”

“Where my papa?” He wailed. Brian and Adam looked up in alarm as Raleigh threw himself across the table dramatically. Patrick hurried over as Raleigh scrambled and leapt without a thought into Patrick’s arms, clutching him tightly. “He no come home! I no see him! Want papa! Where is he! Why he no come home? I bad. I always bad. They leave.”

“Raleigh!” Patrick exclaimed, cutting him off.

Snow, agitated by Raleigh’s distressed, rose to her feet and barked at Patrick even as she edged closer to get near the red-faced, devastated child. Brian leaned over to whack her lightly on the head, and she whirled and growled at him but stopped barking as she peered up and whined at Raleigh who didn’t notice as he continued sobbing into Patrick’s shirt.

“He leave! Mama leave! All leave! I all alone! Why he go? I bad! I be good, and he come home, yes? Please? I promise I be good!” Raleigh cried out through his ragged sobbing, not at all comforted by Patrick’s attempts to pacify him.

Adam and Brian exchanged wide-eyed looked before scurrying off to the living room, leaving their books and laptops behind. Ra-Ra took the whole bowl as Poppy placed both hands on her shoulders and guided her out of the room. Patrick sighed, grateful Raleigh hadn’t noticed their quiet escape from the situation.

“You know that’s not true, Raleigh. You talked to papa this morning on the phone, and the computer last night before you went to sleep. He read you that book you like, remember? About the bear with the changing colored spots who tries to live in the zoo, yeah? And he made all those funny sounds and did crazy voices for all the characters,” Patrick said brightly, poking Raleigh’s stomach lightly.

The reminder didn’t ease the child.

At all.

Raleigh sobbed impossibly harder, clenching tiny fists in Patrick’s shirt. “I love papa. He have to come home! Why papa no home? I just want my papa! Why he no loves us ‘more?”

“I know, munchkin, I know.” Patrick pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s forehead as he bounced him up and down, running a hand over his head and cursing Xavier, Li Min, the studio, and just about every person that he could in some way conceivably blame for the debacle that they found themselves in. “I want papa too,” he told Raleigh, unable to quite manage to hold back the tears in his eyes. “But papa had to do some stuff for work, but he didn’t leave us, Raleigh. He didn’t leave _you_. He’s coming back, I swear. He’ll be back tonight, munchkin, alright?”

Raleigh shook his head, pressing a hand to his eyes and shaking his head as he let out a long, broke squeal that faded into silence more disturbing than his vocal breakdown.

Patrick jostled him a little, but Raleigh shook his head and drew into himself remaining silent as when they’d first gotten him. Lurching across the room, Patrick’s trembling fingers dialed Charlie’s number, overlooking that he had him on his speed dial, biting his lip and pressing his ear to the speaker and staring down at his son with near panic as he prayed Charlie answered. The little boy began to shiver, and the line clicked on with a perky “hello” that wasn’t at all Charlie.

“Chaz…Charlie…I need Charlie,” Patrick stuttered out, growing more and more frantic.

“I…okay…” Elena stumbled.

“Patty?” Charlie came on so quickly that he must have plucked the phone straight from her fingers. Patrick looked down at Raleigh, stricken when he realized he’d stopped sobbing to stare silently, shivering, chest heaving. “Patrick! What’s happened?”

“It’s…um…it’s Raleigh. He kind of had… _is having_ a bit of an episode, I guess.”

A pause and the sound of a door slamming preceded the considerably calmer of the pair ordering firmly, “Tell me what happened to Raleigh, Patrick. Now. Stop panicking.”

Patrick nodded and drew in a long breath. “He freaked out because you’re not here. He, um, he thinks that you’re leaving. That you don’t love him anymore. That you’re not coming home. So he started crying and shivering and now he’s _so quiet_ , Chaz. I don’t know what to do.”

“Give him the phone and make him take it. Don’t ask him nicely, Patrick. Now is not the time to play nice with him like you do when you’re making him eat vegetables.”

“Okay,” Patrick agreed without argument, because somehow, despite what everyone assumed, Charlie _was_ the sterner disciplinarian of the pair of them. Of course, Charlie was also the one who got results rather than laughs. “Raleigh.” The boy didn’t respond so Patrick sat him down on the end of the breakfast nook bench, lightly slapping his cheek as he called his name as. Raleigh blinked and looked at him with a heartbroken look in his eye. Patrick held out the phone, and Raleigh eyed it dispassionately. “Take the phone and talk to papa, Raleigh.”

Slowly, Raleigh nodded, reaching hesitantly and putting the phone to his ear.

“Raleigh?” Patrick could just about hear his boyfriend ask.

Raleigh’s eyes watered as he squeezed his toy to his chest and choked out, “Papa?”

The doorbell rang, and Patrick glanced over at Raleigh, wondering if it would be okay to check and see. He heard footsteps leading towards the door, but it was still _his_ door and Shannon had already said she wouldn’t be coming in. Raleigh had curled up in a ball around his toy, phone pressed to his ear and the blanket drawn tightly around him.

Someone cleared their throat from behind, and Patrick turned to see Adam hesitating in the doorway. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder with an anxious expression. “Um…there’s some guy in a fancy suit here to see you.”

“That’s okay,” Patrick nodded, climbing to his feet. He pressed a kiss to Raleigh’s head and walked towards the door while Adam disappeared down the hallway.

The man he found typing away on his mobile phone wasn’t at all what Patrick had been expecting given how intimidated Brian had seemed. Instead of some well-dressed, formidable man, the guy in the doorway was lanky with Lennon-style glasses and an ill-fitted tweed suit with a short Afro of curls sticking up in every direction and milk chocolate skin. Snow’s paws clicked over the wood as she came to stand beside Patrick, eyeing the man distrustfully.

Hearing the noise, the man looked up, seeming unsurprised to find Patrick in front of him. Instead, he considered Patrick for a moment before his eyes went to Snow, whistling the dog over to him and leaning down to stroke his head as he stuck the mobile phone in his pocket and looked up at Patrick with a bright boyish smile. “Hi, you must be Patrick.”

“Yep…and you are?” Patrick hedged carefully.

“Right, sorry, Cliff…Clifford…Bishop. Clifford Bishop.”

“You’re – ” Patrick started with dawning realization.

“Charlie’s agent, yeah,” Cliff recovered quickly, twirling a ringlet around his finger. “He called me. _Texted_ me, really, about his personal problems so I offered to somewhat possibly resolve it? I guess?” Cliff shrugged.

Patrick nodded like he understood, and Cliff narrowed his eyes on Patrick with a knowing glint. _He knew_. Deciding to be honest, Patrick shook his head, and Cliff bit back a laugh. “You’re here to what exactly?”

“Right, yeah, meet Raleigh,” Cliff said.

“Really?” Patrick choked out in surprise.

Cliff hummed and nodded, “I’ve been Charlie’s agent since he was about…five? I’m pretty sure. Around the time his career really took off, because I’ve always been a better agent than my late mentor, God rest his soul.”

“You don’t look that old,” Patrick frowned.

“Thank you,” Cliff said dismissively. “My wife says I’m a vampire. My oldest daughter, sad little trainwreck she is, wanted to know if she had that particular gene so she could become the next Gisele Bundchen. I told her that would never happen, and now she works the late shift at a gentlemen’s club off Chinatown. Can’t complain, I guess, her boyfriend’s not a schmuck at least.”

“Oh?” Patrick blinked at him, taken aback by his chattering.

Humming again, Cliff nodded, “He works at the Royal AirForce Museum as a curator. Sweet boy.”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough.” He answered Patrick shortly with a bland smile. “In any case, if you’re thinking I’m a bloodsucker like Xavier and Luka…don’t. I’m an agent not a babysitter. I find jobs for successful stars who want to work; I don’t police behavior. If the behavior gets so bad that the jobs dry up, there a nine month warning period before the person gets cut. Game over. That’s it. Charlie knows that, which is why he likes me. I don’t get involved in personal lives or brand disputes; I get contracts, pass them along, handle them, the end…sort of.” Cliff shrugged before continuing on. “I took over for your boyfriend when he was around five when my predecessor, mentor, and the agency’s deputy director, Colin Roosevelt, died of a sudden aneurysm while fucking his mistress in the Hamptons…if you can call a high class male prostitute he saw regularly a ‘mistress.’”

Patrick eyed him carefully, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Me either,” Cliff shrugged as he clapped his hands together and pointed at Patrick. “Anyway, Charlie said you’d had a…disagreement about Raleigh’s future in the industry – fair enough, Charlie had a rough ride of it, they _all_ do really – so I volunteered to come out and meet him, see if there’s anything major there that’s worth the argument.”

As happy was Patrick was to find Charlie bending and meeting him halfway about Raleigh’s future in acting, he couldn’t help but hesitate, unsure if Raleigh was up to meeting people. Weighing his options, Patrick nodded slowly, hesitantly. Cliff’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Sorry for the…weird, its just Raleigh had a bit of a breakdown about Charlie being…stunting in Edinburgh. I left them on the phone, but I’m not sure how much he’ll be up to today. He worked himself over really well I think, to be honest mate.”

Cliff nodded, “I have kids. I understand. Besides, it’s nothing official, just a casual meeting.”

Winging his hands together, Patrick nodded and guided Cliff from the entranceway, down the hall, and towards the kitchen.

“I saw his scene in Lochalsh,” Cliff murmured as they reached the threshold.

Patrick laughed sincerely, startled but not surprised. It seemed everyone had. Irial had talked about it on his show. Salem had downloaded it and sent variations of it he’d found on YouTube to them while his younger sister had gifed half of it and responded to text messages using them. “He loves _Star Wars_ ,” is all Patrick said in reply.

Cliff turned to him and laughed, “I know that, Patrick. So does the rest of the world.”

With that curt, bemused reply, Cliff brushed passed Patrick and into the kitchen, hesitating in the doorway and narrowing his eyes on the little boy who giggled into the phone, eyes still rimmed in red but looking decidedly better. Patrick breathed out in relief, and Snow rushed over to Raleigh, barking cheerfully and sitting down beside him, panting happily as Raleigh reached over to stroke her head.

Raleigh’s eyes fell on Cliff, and he frowned, clutching the phone tighter in hand. “Who you?”

“Cliff Bishop, I’m a friend of your…” Cliff looked at Patrick.

“Papa,” Patrick finished for him.

Narrowing his eyes and looking skeptical, Raleigh shook his head, “No.”

Cliff laughed and sat down across from Raleigh. “Okay, you’re right. I work with your papa. I’m his agent. I get him his jobs, do you understand what that means?”

Raleigh nodded with a smile, “Uncle Salem says agent pimp.”

Patrick choked, and Cliff resisted a smile as he shook his head. “Why don’t you tell your papa that his agent’s here to see you, and you’ll call him back after?”

With a slower, reluctant nod, Raleigh repeated the message to Charlie word for word, pausing to listen and smile to Charlie’s response. “Okay, love you papa. You be home tonight, promise?” He waited before setting the phone down in his lap and narrowing his eyes on Cliff. “You come see me? Why?”

“You parents wanted me to meet you, to see if you could do what your daddy and papa do.”

Raleigh frowned, and Patrick leaned against the island, watching them without interruption as his son puzzled out the comment. “Play pretend on telly like daddy and papa? Like when I play Kylo Ren?”

“Yes,” Cliff nodded, “like when you play Kylo Ren. Would that be something you’d want to do, Raleigh? Would you want to play pretend and be on telly and the cinema?” Cliff asked gently.

Biting his lip, Raleigh’s eyes slid to Patrick’s, unsure. Patrick smiled at his son and shook his head. “Papa and I talked about it already, Raleigh. Whatever you want to do. If you want to play pretend for the people that’s okay, and if you don’t that’s okay too.”

Raleigh turned to Cliff and nodded slowly. “I like play pretend. Am good. Is fun. You help?”

Cliff nodded and smiled slightly, “Yeah, I think I could, Raleigh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from Raleigh's short story because I'm stupidly happy with this short story, you don't even understand:
> 
> Raleigh only sighed exhaustedly and squeezed the bridge of his nose, pointing a long, painted finger at him in warning.
> 
> “I’m making you an appointment, and you’re going. I don’t really want to hear any arguments about it.”
> 
> “You’re such an entitled brat, you know that?”
> 
> “Oh,” Raleigh rolled his eyes, “poor you having someone with connections and next to unlimited funds trying to help you fix your utterly destroyed knee joint. God. Life must suck for a dirt poor unemployed plebian…oh wait.”


	47. "Expensive" by Tori Kelly ft. Daye Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inappropriate men are inappropriate, and we all take a trip to the jewellery store.

**Derek Havershim interview with Charlie Beck**

**Derek:** So shooting for _Ethereal_ ’s going well then?

**Charlie:** Now, I know that not what you actually wanted to ask.

**Derek:** Fine! Fine! You caught me.

**Charlie:** I always do. What’s the word Derek?

**Derek:** How are you and Elena Valence doing? I hear that’s quite the romance.

**Charlie:** Sources! Pics or it didn’t happen! Evidence! I plead the fifth!

**Derek:** I don’t know if you can do that in England, Chaz. We absolutely do not have the same constitution.

**Charlie:** Well, shit. How about this…Elena’s a lovely woman, and I enjoy spending time with her.

**Derek:** What a soundbite! ( _Charlie laughs_ ) Can you at least tell us about this boy whose become _Ethereal’s_ little mascot?

**Charlie:** Wow, would you look at the time? No, I mean, he’s adorable. A huge part of everyone’s life both our cast and our crew. Absolute sunshine he is.

**Derek:** And his parents?

**Charlie:** Are homo sapiens, yes.

 

**Text message from Mam**

**Mam:** Your sister’s court date is coming up.

**Patrick:** I know

**Mam:** You should be a good brother and attend.

**Patrick:** No. I wont. Maggie and I have already tlked everything over. I know where I stand.

**Patrick:** All shes facing is financial ruin and losing a job she shouldnt have anyway

**Mam:** I didn’t raise you like this!

**Patrick:** Correct. This one’s all on me.

**Mam:** When can we see Raleigh again?

**Patrick:** I don’t know

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Omfg it’s like being a child again. I feel like I’m being studied

 

**Samuel Beck (@Samuel_Beck)**

@CharlieBeck that’s because you are ;)

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@j_brzezicki this is why I fled the country like you did O.O

 

To: xavier.wilson@redlettermgmt.org

From: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

Subject: RE: Thanksgiving Week

You’re an asshole Xavier. We have a whole week off in November and instead of allowing us to spend it with out friends and our son, you’re sending my boyfriend off to play loving heterosexual with Elena Valence in Barcelona. Please understand that I am not happy. I’m absolutely fucking pissed. And you can sit around all day and pretend like it was Harry’s decision to make, but I’ve met Harry. If he could have had Chaz out the first day that he met him, he absolutely would have. You’re the one whose being an ass. Kindly go fuck yourself.

Patrick Gallagher 

* * *

“That looks good,” Patrick stated offhandedly.

Charlie’s back arched, eyes closing as he moaned.

“This is the Bluetooth one, right? The Salem modified?” He inquired with a pointedly blasé tone, half his brain concentrating on preventing an erection as he watched Charlie’s sweat-slicked golden skin glisten, back arched and eyes closed as his mouth fell open in delicious show of unadulterated bliss. The other half of his brain kept an eye out for Raleigh who Charlie had been told was sleeping in just so that Patrick could watch him scramble to get his shit together when their son decided to grace them with his effervescent presence.

His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and Patrick huffed out a quiet breath, palming his dick and shaking his head. _You need to keep it together dickhead._ Charlie peeked up at the camera between his obscenely spread legs to glare at Patrick, but instead of speaking, Charlie obeyed Patrick’s wordless command as he waved two fingers, keening loudly as he pressed the pull deeper.

Patrick played with the app Salem had created upon request for especially this purpose, glancing to the screen when Charlie let out a euphoric wail when Patrick tapped on the vibration. Pursing his lips and not bothering to hold back a smirk, Patrick propped his legs up on the desk as he stated, “This is gonna piss you the fuck off.”

“Fuck…you…” Charlie panted, back bowing and head falling back as he let out a loud moan, hand moving to grip his cock tightly as Patrick turned up the level of the vibration. “Oh. My. _God_ …Patty. Patty please,” he whined, chest heaving as he thumbed the head of his weeping cock. “Baby, please, I need…”

“Daddy! Papa on pooter?” Patrick heard his son call from the hall.

“Munchkin alert, Chazza,” he relayed to Charlie whose eyes went wide with a yelp as he rolled off the bed. Raleigh launched himself into Patrick laughed, beaming at the screen joyously before his lips turned down in a frown.

Raleigh looked back at Patrick, eyebrows drawn together, “Why no papa?”

With a huff, Charlie’s head appeared on screen, running a hand through his sweat-soaked curls and smiling a little too brightly. “Hey, little man.”

“Papa!” Raleigh cheered, throwing his hands up excitedly before turning back to Patrick who raised his eyebrows, though his eye remained on Charlie’s narrow-eyed expression as he mouthed, “You did this on purpose.”

Patrick nodded with a smug smile.

Raleigh tugged on Patrick’s arm, “Daddy! Daddy, look! My papa!”

“I see, munchkin. Papa’s looking a little flushed, isn’t he?” Patrick tossed him an impish smile.

With a frown, Raleigh turned back to Charlie who rolled his eyes and brushed his hair out of his eyes with a huff. “Don’t listen to Daddy, munchkin. He’s an asshole.”

They hadn’t laid down firm lines – or _any_ actually – about cursing around Raleigh, and truthfully, they’d probably regret having potty mouths around their son when he started cursing them out before he’d reached double digits, but for now, Raleigh only giggled and shook his head. He hadn’t actually repeated anything, though he seemed to take it into his personal vernacular without any incident.

Both their families had expressed the blatant disagreement with their choice of introducing swear words into their three year old’s vocabulary, and Charlie had pointed out without the slightest hint of fucks to give that if he had agreed to toss his son into the entertainment industry before he entered puberty, he was at least going to send him in with a full and varied vocabulary. No one had had much to say after he’d said that, not even Samuel Beck who’d rolled his eyes.

“What are you up to, my love?” Charlie asked Raleigh who sighed and collapsed into Patrick like he’d melted into a puddle of happiness.

“We have dinner with Uncle Salem and Uncle Bailey and Bailey’s Nani and Nani’s Catri and Tasha and Damien and Uncle Michi and Auntie Zumi and lots and lots of people!” Raleigh rambled without seeming to take a breath. “And Daddy draw me pretty picture. And Uncle Michi draw me! And Uncle Bailey and Daddy help me cook! And Uncle Salem let me take apart pooter!”

Charlie smiled and shook his head, “You’re having fun then?”

“Lots of fun!” Raleigh exclaimed.

“You still at Bailey’s?” Charlie asked Patrick quietly, and Patrick nodded. “You and Daddy sleeping over at Uncle Salem’s tonight?”

“Yes!” Raleigh cheered brightly, “Uncle Salem say we watch _all_ the _Star Wars_.”

Charlie’s eyebrows went up as he looked at Patrick again with a disbelieving, bemused expression. “Did he?”

Patrick huffed and nodded, “He did indeed. I was overruled.”

“You fight the man, Trick!” Charlie pumped his fist, and Patrick rolled his eyes.

“I’m in love with a child,” Patrick groaned while Charlie laughed brightly. Raleigh peered up at him curiously, and Charlie’s laughter grew more hysterical as he eyes widened, and he shook his head. “I…that’s not…Papa’s not a child.”

Raleigh slapped a palm to his head and sighed exhaustedly as he drawled, “No.”

Charlie devolved into another round of laughter while Patrick tossed his a droll look. “My son schooled you.”

“Fuck off,” Patrick mouthed.

“What are you up to today? You look like you haven’t even left the bed yet, and it’s later in Barcelona than it is here,” Patrick told him, letting Raleigh hop down and sprint to the bed, grabbing his Kylo Ren plushie and blanket as he fell down to the ground. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Patrick hooked his thumb over his shoulder to point at their psychotic son while Charlie just beamed and chuckled.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair and nodded, “Yeah…we got up for breakfast – ”

“Are you sharing a room?” Patrick demanded furiously.

“Don’t do this right now. It’s not like we’re sleeping together,” Charlie remarked sternly, and Patrick gritted his teeth, fighting the rising anger and insecurity and fury that Elena slept – and _touched_ – the man that was _his_. He swallowed and nodded tersely, and Charlie watched him for a moment through the screen before nodding slowly. “Elena went out shopping with her stylist so I am staying in until she gets back.”

“Anything else I should know about other than her making out with you on a yacht in Barcelona?” Patrick spat furiously, Charlie’s eyebrows rose at the tone, chin tipping towards Raleigh who’d stilled to watch them with an uncertain expression wrapped in his blanket and clutching his toy to his chest. Patrick cleared his throat and nodded with a slight smile at Raleigh whose eyes moved to Charlie before he dropped to his ass again.

Charlie shrugged uncomfortably and lowered his voice. “I’m having dinner with her and her brother and some of the people from her tour at Quimet & Quimet. Then we’re going clubbing at Hyde.”

“Don’t get drunk, because you get handsy and I’ll be pissed,” Patrick told him bluntly.

Nodding in agreement, Charlie promised him, “I won’t get drunk.” His smile turned impish as he waggled his eyebrows at Patrick. “Enjoy your _Star Wars_ marathon with the munckin, Pattycake.”

“Oh screw you,” Patrick groaned. “I’m just going to read _Star Wars_ fanfiction instead. It’s kind of the same thing, isn’t it? Besides, I’ve watched them so many times in the last few months I can recite them _all_.”

“Could be worse. He could be obsessed with _Regular Show_ or _My Little Ponies_.” Patrick’s lip curled, and Charlie pointed a finger at him, “Bronies are thing. Don’t kink-shame Mr. Tie-me-to-the-bed-spank-me-till-my-ass-is-raw-and-choke-me-when-I’m-edging.”

Patrick flushed and nodded his head as he said weakly, “Raleigh’s still here.”

“Fuck me,” Charlie deadpanned.

On the floor, Raleigh giggled, and Patrick hoped that it only came from their obvious embarrassment and not any real comprehension of what the hell Charlie had said.

A knock on the door had Patrick turning around to find Salem poke his head into the guestroom. Raleigh gasped, and Salem threw the door open only just managing to catch the little boy that leapt happily and securely into his arms, cuddling against him. Salem looked from Patrick to Charlie, tossing his an impish smile and smug finger wave that Charlie responded to by flipping him off. Salem turned to Patrick, arms still full of child.

“Ready?”

“She here?” Patrick inquired archly.

Salem nodded while Charlie called out, “Who?”

“We gots to go, bestie,” Salem pointed to Charlie, hedging out the door with Raleigh in hand.

“Wait! Answer my question!” Charlie called out desperately, whining.

“You naked?” Was Salem’s only wry response. Charlie narrowed his eyes, and Patrick laughed. “You should get…not naked. Un-naked?”

“Clothed,” Patrick nodded.

“Clothed,” Salem agreed.

“Yeah,” Patrick said as Salem swept out of the room followed by Raleigh’s high-pitched giggle. He beamed innocently at Charlie who narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “I _do_ have to go.”

“No.”

“I love you,” Patrick blew him a kiss teasingly.

Charlie flipped him off again, “Die you fucking whore!”

With a laugh, Patrick shut down the computer and ran a hand through his hair, waiting for his heartbeat to steady before he got to his feet and grabbed his jacket to make his way downstairs where they were decidedly _not_ watching _Star Wars_.

* * *

“I’m overwhelmed by the sticker shock,” Poppy moaned as she tapped her hands on the glass display case, ignoring the dark look from the man behind the counter. Salem slanted her a disbelieving look as he shook his head.

“Isn’t that _my_ line? You grew up with this kind of money,” Salem pointed out, plucking Raleigh out of Patrick’s arms when the boy reached out for him with a quiet whine. “Also when were you going to tell us you were shacking up with Ra-Ra?”

Patrick startled, glancing back at them and raising his eyebrows at the pair of them while Poppy blanched and shot Salem a poisonous look.

“I _wasn’t_ ,” Poppy hissed at Salem who raised both hands as much as he could with Raleigh in his arms. Raleigh giggled into Salem’s neck, keeping one eye on Poppy as he clung tightly. Patrick glanced between the pair of them before deciding to neither intervene nore ask any questions. He wasn’t sure he wanted his head bitten off today, and Poppy certainly looked as if it wouldn’t take much more prompting to get there. Besides, if he really wanted to know – and he wasn’t sure he did – Patrick could always just call Ra-Ra.

A young woman zeroed her gaze on their small group as she walked out of the staffroom, and her back straightened as she tightened her blonde ponytail and made her way over purposefully, tugging the ends of her shirt as she stepped up behind the counter and smiled at Patrick, her eyes briefly skimming over Poppy and Salem.

“And why ever not? You never did seem the type to hide your sexcapades,” Salem pointed out to Poppy. Patrick winced and gave the girl behind the counter a pained smile as her eyebrows rose. “Fuck knows we wished you did when you were dating Soren,” Salem pointed out, and while the words weren’t _exactly_ a lie, they definitely lacked the tact that Patrick felt certain their situation should be afforded.

“Hello,” the girl said hesitantly until Patrick waved a dismissive hand at them. She placed a frail, bony hand over her mouth as she giggled before pulling it together, “I’m Naomi. Can I help you with anything today?”

“Ring!” Raleigh called excitedly, reaching to grab onto Patrick who took him from Salem’s arms as Poppy exclaimed:

“We’re not _serious_! We’re not even together! She’s my best friend. She’s questioning her sexuality!”

Salem gave Poppy a skeptical look before saying, “ _She’s_ questioning her sexuality. And you’re – what? – being a good friend, totally no homo, and helping her out?” Poppy fumed, and Salem raised both his hands, eyebros practically disappearing into his hairline from how high he raised them. “Okay, whatever, we’ve all been there I guess.”

Patrick cleared his throat uncomfortably while Naomi offered him a bemused smile instead of the frustration and mild annoyance the rest of the patrons and some of the staff were leveling at Poppy and Salem. Raleigh beamed happily at Patrick, oblivious to the drama going down behind them. He tapped his fingers on the glass counter anxiously and nodded at Raleigh. “Right, yes, rings. Engagement rings, specifically.”

A gleam of interest piqued in the depths of Naomi’s eyes, signaling sterling recognition of who he was, but Naomi kept discretion and wisely chose not to ask. “Of course, did you have anything in mind: size, metal, color, cut, or would you just like to see a selection of options?”

He tensed and bit his bottom lip with an uneasy smile.

Naomi smiled sympathetically and nodded, “Don’t worry about it. We get that look _a lot_. How about I grab a selection for you to look through, and we can narrow down what you think your girlfriend likes?”

Clearing his throat, Patrick stated carefully, haltingly, “That’s the thing. I know, vaguely, what I want, but it’s for my boyfriend. I looked online before coming here, and, frankly, I doubt my boyfriend would appreciate your…masculine rings as an engagement ring, am I making sense or am I rambling?”

Naomi, it seemed, was amazing at her job. She appeared startled for a total of ten seconds before pressing her lips together thoughtfully and nodding. “Okay, I understand. Here’s what we can do. It wouldn’t be hard to adjust the fit of the ring for your boyfriend, that’s not a problem at all. Otherwise, I can go talk to my manager and see about getting you a custom ring, but that’s pretty expensive.”

Patrick nodded and turned to Raleigh. “What do you think, munchkin?”

Raleigh pouted and shrugged.

Turning around, Patrick peered at his two friends over his shoulder who’d lowered their voices to have half a heated conversation with Poppy’s face turning red as she hissed quietly at Salem and gesticulated wildly and Salem had his arms crossed over his chest with a wry half smile on his lips as he watched her work herself up into a fury. Patrick cleared his throat, and they turned towards him. “Are you two actually going to help or just fight about whether or not Poppy’s dragging my cousin into a lesbian clandestine relationship?”

Poppy narrowed her eyes on him and punched Salem in the arm when he smirked at Patrick impishly. She came over and plucked Raleigh out of Patrick’s arm as Salem came up on his other side and elbowed Patrick. Salem leaned against the counter, a lock of his silver hair falling into his eyes as he peered up at Patrick with pursed lips.

“Well do you know what you want?”

“Platinum. I definitely want it to be diamond but not like their engagement rings online.”

Poppy nodded in agreement, “Needs color.”

“Yellow?” Salem asked.

“I thought about, but I’m not sure with the way I want the design.” Patrick paused and frowned, shaking his head, “And definitely not round.”

Naomi smiled at them indulgently, “Anything else I should note?”

“I want it engraved?” Patrick offered hesitantly.

“She means with the shape, cut, or design, dumbass,” Salem intoned lightly.

“Emerald, oval, or cushioned…probably cushioned. Can you cushion the diamond if it’s in another shape? Is that a thing?” Patrick inquired offhandedly. Salem pressed his lips together and shrugged, both men peering over at Poppy who sighed in exasperation and looked down at Raleigh as she murmured, “They’re so helpless. Like little orphaned kittens.”

“Puppy,” Raleigh corrected shaking his head. “Kitty survive good.”

Nodding sagely, Poppy admitted with a smug smirk at the men, “This is true.”

“I think I have just the thing actually,” Naomi said, seeming to have surprise herself. “I’ll be right back,” Naomi offered before darting away hastily to another of the warmly lit display cases.

Patrick tilted a look towards Poppy, sharing a quick, understanding glance with Salem before he said, “You’re no homo screwing my cousin?”

Poppy groaned and flipped Patrick the bird. “Why are you siding with the asshole?”

Salem leaned around Patrick to stick his tongue out at Poppy who narrowed her eyes at him, and Patrick laughed, pressing a kiss to Raleigh’s forehead as Naomi returned with a glistening diamond ring sat on a black pillow.

“Oh wow,” Poppy murmured, peeking over at Salem and Patrick who Raleigh oohed as Naomi held up a dazzling ring.

“This is the Tiffany Soleste Oval,” Naomi said, handing it off to Patrick carefully and allowing him and Salem to peer at it as she rattled off specs. It was platinum with white diamonds imbedded in half the band and with double rows encircling a significant yellow diamond in the center. “It can definitely be fitted for your boyfriend and engraved.”

Patrick nodded and looked at Raleigh seriously, “What do you think, munchkin?”

“Pretty, daddy,” Raleigh hummed.

“What about for papa?” Raleigh nodded seriously, and Patrick laughed while Salem muttered about the kid being ‘just like that boyfriend of yours.’ Patrick beamed and couldn’t agree more. For all the lack of DNA between the pair, Charlie and Raleigh seemed certainly cut from the same, expensive, designer clothe. He turned back to Naomi seriously. “What’s the carat size?”

“This one is 1.02 carats,” Naomi told him, “just about £16,000.”

Salem whistled while Poppy staggered, and Patrick rolled his eyes at both of them…like they (or at the very least _Salem_ ) didn’t have that kind of money lying around. “Price isn’t really…” Patrick trailed off, uncomfortable with his own blasé attitude towards money that had only grown worse under Raleigh and Charlie’s influence. “What’s the biggest carat you carry in this style ring?”

“2.57,” Naomi informed him.

“What’s that like £40,000?” Poppy inquired.

Naomi half-smiled and shrugged, “Just about.”

“Fucking hell, Patty,” Salem seemed compelled to put in.

“Have you ever _met_ Chaz?”

Salem scoffed and nodded, “Your boyfriend’s high maintenance.”

Poppy choked and shot Salem a disbelieving look while Patrick narrowed his eyes on Salem and said pointedly, “Have you ever met _Bailey_?”

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that. Bailey is goddamned saint.”

“Okay,” Poppy teased.

“We get papa pretty ring, daddy?” Raleigh asked quietly.

“Yes, we do, little man,” Patrick grinned as he took his glowing, excited son from Poppy’s arms and turned back to Naomi. “That’s absolutely perfect. I’m ready to wrap this up whenever you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another excerpt from my child:
> 
> "I’ve read the books. Magnus Bane is, without doubt, my favorite character. The first film hardly did him justice, but I think the television show got it considerably more right. Righter?” Raleigh shrugged and waved a hand dismissively, grinning at the crowd when they laughed delightedly.
> 
> “Are you a free-wheeling bisexual like him too?” Morgan inquired with a faux joking smile.
> 
> Raleigh’s head turned to her slowly, a dangerous smile spreading across his lips as he pointed a finger at her. “Are you allowed to ask that?"


	48. "Perfect Picture" by Bea Miller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie puts his foot down and acts responsible.

**siobhanandherdragon**

My brother’s girlfriend says patrick gallagher was in tiffany’s buying an engagement ring !!!!!

**lordgallagher’slover**

…except Patrick Gallagher doesn’t have a girlfriend.

**queenkiarathekelpietamer**

he’s helping Charlie buy a ring for Elena <33333

**infochatrick**

I found your anon, Tracy

#namethestarschatrick #what even is this response

**namethestarschatrick**

Sigh…people nowadays

#they’ve been dating for barely four months #technically #i’ll be honest: I still don’t buy it

**siobhanandherdragon**

She told my brother patrick had a kid with him…

**hellonarnia**

Ok but WHO IS THIS KID?????

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“Why don’t you just jump…?” Why don’t you? It’s not a long way down anyway, right?

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Lol…

 

**Taylor Davis (@Taylor_Davis)**

@ScoutCinema I’ve found your extra #lookatthisface #howadorableishe

 

**Scout Markham (@ScoutCinema)**

@Taylor_Davis I approve the padawan. Get me a signed permission slip.

 

**Toddler internet sensation to appear on _Ethereal_?**

It’s been almost two months since the video of a toddler reciting a scene from _Star Wars: The Force Awakens_ made it’s way to the internet and went viral. While rumors have abounded about who on the _Ethereal_ cast the child belongs to with several cast members artfully swerving the question in interviews, it seems our favorite toddler is making a comeback in a big way! _Ethereal’s_ executive producer, Taylor Davis, commented to show director, Scout Kendall Markham, that she’d ‘found him an extra’ accompanied by a shot of the child hiding in the costume department to which Markham approved on the condition she ‘get [him] a signed permission slip.’ According to promo shots of the episode, the toddler appears to be a little more than an extra. It’s rumored he got cast as the highly anticipated Will O’the Wisp made flesh that most of the character have been hunting half the season.

**Comments:**

**Anonymous:** YES, CHILD, RISE!!!!!!!

**rogue_river_ren:** No one can understand how much I love this child! I’m so happy he’s back

**returntomepatrelyn:** How much you wanna bet he’s Charlie Beck’s kid?

**gayasthefey:** …no way in hell has Charlie beck ever put his penis into any woman’s vagina

**21greatnoble:** Lmfao. Yes. I agree completely.

* * *

Charlie could hear Raleigh screaming from where he perched on the backrest of a bench with mulled wine in one hand and sugar-doused churro in the other, keeping half an eye on Patrick leaning against the railing of the ride and half an eye on the delighted child wedged between Evelyn (who’d finally gotten over hers and Patrick’s break up somewhere around the time she’d started adoring Raleigh) and Sienna who tipped her head against Israel’s shoulder with a vaguely green tinge to her skin.

“Look at you being all parental,” Hollis teased as she sidled up to Patrick with macaroni and cheese in one hand and a beer the size of her head in the other. Mahon, tapping away on his mobile phone, Dexter, who had a dazzling smile on his face and his hair twisted up, and her boyfriend, Travis Delwyn who had the kind of rugged pretty boy look that Charlie hadn’t expected her to like. Travis was all muscle, seeped in testosterone, and sporting a military-grade buzz cut and stubble; he’d also proven he could drink _Patrick_ under the table.

Patrick scowled at her, and Hollis threw back her head and laughed. “No, it’s cute.”

“It’s not,” Mahon added, narrowly catching Penney Dear as she appeared behind them with a yelp and threw herself at him. He didn’t even looked at her as he tossed the A-list starlet over his shoulder and slapped her ass. “It’s sickening.”

“Anything you want to tell us?” Dexter side-eyed them, turning to raise his eyebrows at Charlie who shrugged.

“We’re fucking,” Mahon said offhandedly. Penney laughed, and Patrick shook his head at them, shaking Travis’s hand in greeting.

Charlie hopped to his feet and came over, leaning against the rail beside Patrick and nodding at Travis and Hollis, the latter laughing at him and shaking her head as she stole his mulled wine and took a sip.

Hollis made a blissed out noise and shook her head. “Heaven in a cup.”

Charlie cocked his head, “No, love, that’s what it feels like when Patty’s balls deep in ass while I’m tied to the headboard and have a cock ring keeping me from coming half a dozen times over.”

“TMI,” Mahon yelled while Dexter simply laughed.

“You think sex is better than food?” Hollis gasped, affronted.

“I think getting fucked until I don’t know my own name is better than shitty mulled wine from a faux Bavarian village,” Charlie pointed out, smirking when Patrick’s ears went red, and he buried his face in his hands as Travis laughed and patted his back sympathetically.

“It’s decent mulled wine,” Penney argued.

“It’s shit,” Charlie rehashed.

“Because you would know the real thing?” Hollis asked archly. Charlie kept staring at her until she drew in a tense breath and nodded in understanding. “I forgot you’re a world traveller. My bad.”

Charlie’s phone pinged, and he pulled it out and barked out a laugh at the picture of Bailey half sitting in Salem’s lap, terrified, with Bakar Bengochea, his wife Alisa, and Benjamin Roland and his wife, Tal, on a roller coaster that almost always threatened Charlie’s nausea.

**Salem:** We’re heading to the ferris wheel if the munchkin wants to come.

**Salem:** But not you because I hate you :P

Laughing, Charlie rolled his eyes and quickly thumbed out his reply.

**Charlie:** You dirty rotten liar!

**Charlie:** 2secs kiddo’s getting off rn

“Papa! Daddy! Papa!” Raleigh raced over to them and launched himself into Charlie’s arms without the slightest fear he wouldn’t be caught. Patrick, godsent that he was, had deftly taken the drink and food from Charlie’s hands, tossing back some mulled wine and grinning down at their overexcited son while Sienna and Evelyn appeared, deep in conversation, with Israel skipping over ahead of them and wrapped hir arms around Dexter. “So fun!”

“Was it?” Patrick inquired, “I couldn’t tell.”

Raleigh shook his head, cheeks flushed red from the cold, and his dark curls peeking out from beneath the rim of his Arsenal woolen beanie. Charlie adjusted Raleigh’s checkered Burberry cashmere scarf and carefully tucked it into his matching red woolen duffel coat while Raleigh tilted his head back and smiled at Patrick who frowned at their son and took his hands, pressing the tiny digits to his lips.

“And where did you gloves go?”

“Aucle Is!” Raleigh pointed guilelessly, giggling. “My fingers no cold.”

“Liar,” Patrick exclaimed while Raleigh pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“Hey,” Charlie jostled Raleigh lightly until Raleigh’s eyes turned to him. “Uncle Salem’s here with Uncle Bailey and some friends. They’re going on the ferris wheel, and he wants to know if you want to go with them.”

“Yes!” Raleigh cried cheerfully, “Uncle Sale!”

Patrick gave Charlie a droll look. “He loves Salem more than us, I’m convinced.”

Charlie laughed but didn’t disagree. Israel came over and swept Raleigh out of Charlie’s arms, making the little boy giggling as ze rested him on her hip. “I’ll keep an eye on your munchkin. Jazz is meeting me over there anyway.”

Patrick and Charlie exchanged a look before Patrick nodded, and Hollis asked excitedly, “Ice skating?”

Every time Charlie came to Winter Wonderland, it got more and more magical.

He wondered just how that could be possible since it didn’t change all that much from year to year if at all, but something about the glimmering lights and Christmas spirit that lingered in the cozy holiday décor and the smell of fresh baked bread and heated wine that lingered in the air over seasonal songs and strands of fairy lights made everything all the more visceral. Coming to Winter Wonderland always felt like home, which was why when his manager – and _Elena’s_ – had suggested he take her there to hang out with his friends, Charlie had put his foot down.

The previous year, Charlie had let it go because Vanessa Parrish would have ended up there anyway, meager part of the cast but still _part of it_ that she was. There’d been no reason _not_ to stunt with her, and besides, last year it had only been him and Patrick without the added pressure of Elena still thinking their relationship had foundations and legs and more than PR bullshit designed to dazzle the press. With Patrick, their friends, family, and most especially Raleigh who didn’t deserve to live their life of pretense; Charlie had put his foot down.

Patrick leaned up from where he’d been kneeling between Charlie’s leg to ‘properly’ tie his skates and pressed a lingering kiss to Charlie’s lips, whispering quietly, “Ready, Sunshine?”

“No,” Charlie groaned as Patrick laughed and stood, taking both Charlie’s hands and tugging him to his feet. Patrick caught his face between his calloused hands and gave him another kiss before grinning impishly and tugging him towards the rink. Charlie groaned.

Blue and purple lights reflected off the slick surface of the ice, and Charlie bit his bottom lip and abandoned his initial hesitancy about clogging up the rink entrance to clutch the wall with one hand and shake his head as Patrick tried to tug him onto the ice. Hollis skated passed them when Travis on her heels, whirling around to stick her tongue out at her boyfriend before winking at Charlie as she breezed by and used the momentum to throw an arm around Dexter’s shoulders and a kiss to his cheek.

It took five minutes for Patrick to convince Charlie to get onto the ice, holding his hand tightly and moving slowly as they got out onto the ice.

Up ahead, Evelyn and Sienna glided with Penney wedged between them, the three women had their heads thrown back as they sang along to the Christmas carol playing out over the speakers. Mahon, across the rink, rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone to snap a picture moments before their sound engineer rammed into him, the boom mic operator behind him, and the film editor hesitating on the periphery of the dog pile with a bemused look. Anders and Scout, Charlie found, skating side by side with Anders’s eyes bright on Scout as their boisterous director ducked his head and laughed quietly, softly, with a boyish smile crossing his face. Taylor leaned against a wall and reached over it to take a sip of hot drink Miriam offered her from where she stood beside Jonah who’d come dressed as an elf, her eyes alight on Jeremy Bixton from lighting department and a sly smile on her lips.

“You think Taylor will finally get laid?” Charlie inquired, nudging Patrick and indicating towards Taylor and Jeremy.

Patrick gazed at their executive producer for a moment with a smile curving his lips as he turned towards Charlie, waggling his eyebrows and tugging Charlie towards him. He looped their arms together and let Patrick speed up slightly and draw the pair of them closer towards Taylor. Patrick started to slow as they reached her, reaching over to press his hand to Charlie’s stomach to keep him from sliding ahead and gently sliding them into a near stop.

“You tap that arse, Taylor!” He called.

Charlie’s mouth dropped open, and he put a hand over his gaping mouth as he shook his head.

Taylor turned to face Patrick with narrowed eyes, flipping him off.

Laughing without the slightest hint of concern, Patrick gave her a thumbs up, and Jeremy looked over at them with amusement, shaking his head and leaning into Miriam before he reached out to touch a hand to Taylor’s arm gently, drawing her attention and softening with a few murmured words.

Charlie turned to Patrick accusingly. “You _knew_ they were seeing each other, didn’t you?”

“Israel told me,” Patrick replied smugly.

“That’s it! Relationship over! How am I supposed to stay with you when you never _tell_ me anything?” Charlie exclaimed dramatically.

Patrick rolled his eyes and laughed, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek, “But I love you.”

“I know,” he returned smugly.

“Okay, Han Solo, take it down,” Patrick teased before sighing and looking down at Charlie knowingly. He smiled up at him innocently, but Patrick’s eyes narrowed, not at all buying the look. “I don’t want to have this conversation.”

“I don’t care,” Charlie informed him succinctly but without heat. “We have a child. A living, breathing human being who relies on us to make good choices and keep him alive. Like a pet but more involved.”

“Well, you’re not looking into giving any talks on parenthood,” Patrick told him, wrinkling his nose.

A teenaged girl skated up behind them, and Charlie yelped as Patrick tugged him closer as he narrowed his eyes on the girl. Charlie noted her mother standing just outside the rink, not at all listening to her chatty husband as the woman narrowed her eyes on Patrick. He elbowed his boyfriend and offered her a warm smile until the woman melted and turned away.

“Patrick,” Charlie sighed, already tired of the conversation they’d barely started. “I gave in on letting Raleigh act despite his age and my reservations. I need you to work with me on this. This is more important.”

With an irritated groan, Patrick acquiesced, “I don’t understand why we need a ten year plan for our son. Is he never allowed to make decisions?”

“Our son is not turning into Justin Bieber or Miley Cyrus or Jamie Lynn Spears.”

“Who?”

Charlie threw up his hand, the other remaining clenched onto Patrick like a lifeline. “Exactly! Out of control because they were allowed to hit puberty in the land of entitlement, addictive substances, and getting away with murder. I need him to have structure, and I need to know what we’re going to do when we get done with _Ethereal_ , and we’re running out of time.”

“ _You_ turned out alright.”

“I’m neurotic. I’m also an exception,” Charlie pointed out.

Patrick ran a hand through his hair, and Charlie caught his hat as he accidentally knocked it off his head. He reached up to place it back on his head as Patrick offered him a sheepish smile, and Charlie rolled his eyes, pecking his lips as Patrick asked, “What do you need, Chaz?”

“I need him to go to school like a normal kid.”

“He wants to act.”

“Not forever,” Charlie admitted, “Just not…”

“During his formative years?” Patrick suggested proudly.

“Clearly someone’s been reading those books Dr. Carrow recommended,” Charlie pointed out.

Patrick flushed and nodded, “I…yeah…okay. So, we let him – what? – work for a little while until he reaches…year seven? What’s that in America? Middle school?”

They hadn’t quite talked about after _Ethereal_ yet…or at all, but Charlie supposed that it spoke legions about where Patrick wanted to be that he was thinking about equivalent grade levels in America. It would make things easier when they did talk about it, because if there was one thing Charlie _knew_ , it was that he didn’t at all want to stay in England. Frankly, Charlie hadn’t wanted to ever come back permanently at all, not after spending so much of his life in Los Angeles. He spoke like a Brit, but his heart, stomach, and career lived across the ocean.

“Middle school,” Charlie nodded in agreement. “He’d be eleven. I’m not opposed to him working during that time or during the summers. I wouldn’t even mind if he went to a performing arts school. There’s more than a few in California or New York or even here – ”

“The Brit School?” Patrick inquired doubtfully, his lips curled back in a sneer that most people who’d worked their asses off to get into the industry without the help of the quintessential English elite industry school.

Charlie wasn’t Patrick, though.

As long as Raleigh wasn’t trying alcohol and cocaine behind the tutor’s trailer with his under-aged costars, Charlie didn’t care.

“Middle school and high school, and then I’ll put my hands up and let him do what he wants to do,” Charlie promised.

Patrick nodded slowly, thoughtfully, before saying haltingly: “I…agree…anything else?”

“I don’t want him in school in Los Angeles,” Charlie snapped sharply, almost unthinkingly. Patrick drew back in surprise.

Without a word, Patrick towed him off to the side of the rink and put a hand on his waist, cupping his chin and meeting his eyes seriously. “What is it with you and Los Angeles?”

“Los Angeles is a cesspool,” Charlie told him bluntly. He shrugged and flushed, looking away from Patrick until his eyes were drawn back by Patrick’s insistence. Tossing his a wan smile, Charlie sighed and shook his head, feeling his face draw into a scowl as he shook his head with a dark look on his face. “It’s a hedonist nightmare. People get away with everything. There’s no rules. There’s no boundaries. There’s no responsibilities beyond who you can stick your dick into, where you can score, and how many pints you can put into your body before passing out.”

Patrick bit his lip and looked down at Charlie as he nodded seriously. “I guess, I don’t have to ask where you want to live when _Ethereal_ ’s done.”

Charlie made a frustrated noise and shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I mean everyone we love is here.”

“I’m hearing a ‘but.’”

“But I hate London. It’s dark. It’s cold. It rains all the time. The food here sucks because of all the restrictions. It’s not really a city. It’s a bunch of towns in close enough proximity to constitute the title of ‘city.’ I spent most of my life LA and Australia except during holiday seasons. I came to London for the show, and as much as I have Salem and Poppy here, that’s not enough to make me want to stay. I hate London, and I never wanted to come back here permanently. _At all_.” Charlie said, tensing when he realized how much he’d let loose.

Barking out a laugh, Patrick nodded, “Okay, Chaz, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”

His cheeks turned red, and Charlie shook his head and wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck, burying his head into the curve of Patrick’s neck. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Patrick laughed, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s temple. “Okay, so, what if we lived in LA for the next few years. We’ll get Raleigh doing whatever he’s into. We’ll be fine with work and close to everything, and when he turns eleven, we go to New York, enroll him into school there and address his acting when we get there.”

For the first time in a long time, Charlie felt himself breathe, nodding and leaning back to meet Patrick’s dark eyes, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, as long as we’re New York bound eventually, I’m good, but…you hate my Chelsea apartment.”

Charlie laughed and pressed his lips together, nodding. “I hate your Chelsea apartment. I don’t mind Chelsea, per se. The High Line is _gorgeous_ , but I’m not living in that apartment, and neither is my protégé.”

“ _Your_ protégé?” Patrick demanded archly, his eyes shining with happiness and love and amusement.

“Of course,” Charlie returned playfully, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. Their lisp moved against each other as their bodies seemed to melt into one another, their tongues tangling and moans mingling as they reveled in the feeling of being open and unseen and anonymous, heedless of the danger of being outed. Too soon, Patrick pulled back to press his forehead against Charlie’s as he smiled down at him, mirroring Charlie’s own as he spoiled the sweetness of the moment entirely by saying, “My boy certainly doesn’t have _your_ sense of style.”

“Fucking hell Charlie!”

Laughing happily, Charlie leaned into Patrick as his boyfriend’s arms wrapped him. They soaked in the feeling of being with each other in the middle of the crowd.


	49. "I Was Made For Loving You" by Tori Kelly ft. Ed Sheeran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More inappropriate behavior with a whole lot of Christmas-y sap and fluff

**Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

Super excited to meet @13poppies this weekend. My fashion icon 4ever <3

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@e_valence1997 awww thanks babe. Glad someone knows how absolutely fabulous I am (re: @CharlieBeck @LadyLibby) ;)

 

**Charlotte Harbourne (@LadyLibby)**

@13poppies my darling baby girl kindly FUCK OFF

 

**Our favorite superstars get serious!**

Elena Valence and Charlie Beck have been an international It-Couple since kick-starting their relationship publicly in September. Only three months in, though, and it looks like our golden couple is getting serious. During downtime starting mid-December. The A-list actor caught up with his girlfriend on tour in Shanghai bringing his beloved sister and supermodel, Daphne Beck, and best friend and tech mogul, Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, to spend a long weekend with the superstar singer in her luxury hotel to meet her younger brother, David, and best friend, step-brother, and action film star, Mikala Hina. The group was spotted out and about walking in the French Concession sector of Shangai as well as picnicking in the Yu Garden. Kimura-Petrov even posted photos on Instagram of Charlie, Daphne, Valence, Hina, and himself sightseeing at the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium. According to sources close to the stars, the pair are ‘so in love’ and ‘incredibly dedicated to each other and their relationship.’ It certainly seems like it, and we hope to see them this happy for a long time to come!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Watching White Christmas on repeat because @ArthurBailey @Cris_Emerson @notthecountry @DexterCarroll are being sappy!!!!!

 

**Anonymous Tracy (@namethestarschatrick)**

@StPatty_ don’t tell me that you hate the classics???? I can feel my insides dying!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@namethestarschatrick hahaha nooo I just prefer Hallmark christmas movies more. Less songs more sap XD

 

**Over the Hil (@kingnaoiseforpm)**

Is @cw_ethrl child mascot watching White Christmas with everyone @StPatty_ #raiseseyebrowsuspiciously

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@kingnaoiseforpm lmao he might be ;)

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Finally home! Time for xmas with the fam :*

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Up at the crack of fucking dawn. Sigh. Ugh. Happy Christmas…x_x

* * *

Patrick reclined on the sofa with Charlie draped across his torso like a blanket snapping pictures one-handed with his mobile phone of Raleigh while ignoring Elena’s numerous Christmas text messages.

Raleigh sat at the foot of the Christmas tree swimming in a flood of multi-colored, _Star Wars_ wrapping paper and chattering on excitedly to the tiny, raven black Bombay kitten that Charlie had talked Patrick into buying for their pet-friendly son. Snow laid out under the Christmas tree, with her crystal eyes locked on the mewling kitten suspiciously while the kitten’s emerald-eyed gaze flickered from dog to boy, settling on pawing carefully at Raleigh and crying as he stumbled towards him.

“Careful with him!” Charlie called out as Raleigh gathered him up into his arms and snuggled his face into the fur. Raleigh stilled and looked over at Charlie who chuckled and snapped a picture before telling him more seriously, “Remember he’s still little. You could hurt him without meaning to.”

Pursing his lips, Raleigh nodded and looked back down at the cat. “Hi, kitty, I play nice with you. I promise. I no hurt. Snow no hurt. Solo safe.”

Fighting a smile, Patrick looked down at Charlie who propped up his chin on Patrick’s chest and gazed up at him pointedly. Laughing softly, Patrick ran a hand through Charlie’s tangled curls and nodded. “Okay, you might have had a point about the kitten.”

Charlie smirked, “Called it.”

“But I _still_ maintain that you just wanted something to cuddle when you’re alone…which is _never_.”   Patrick pointed out.

“When I love this cat more than you, do not ask me why,” Charlie huffed.

“You won’t.” Charlie quirked an eyebrow, and Patrick’s hand skimmed along Charlie’s side, over the curve of his back, and stopped on Charlie’s ass, kneading it until he muffled a gasp and rolled his hips against Patrick’s. Leaning down, Patrick whispered in his ear, “A cat won’t give it to you half as well as I can.”

“Fuck off,” he laughed breathily, sneaking a glance at their son before leaning up to press a heated to kiss to Patrick’s lips.

With a groan, Patrick’s free hand came up to sink into Charlie’s hair and tug on it until Charlie moaned quietly. When his mouth fell open, Patrick’s tongue slipped in to entwine with Charlie’s, catching the moan in his own mouth and grinding his hips lazily against Charlie’s. Heedless of the three-year-old immersed in what seemed like his first Christmas, Patrick moved his hand to slip beneath the waistband of Charlie’s Calvin Klein lounge pants, pressing a two fingers into his still-loose hole, lingering traces of lube from their late night/early morning Christmas sex marathon.

Charlie moaned into Patrick’s mouth, panting and biting Charlie’s lip when he pulled back slightly. He rested his head against Patrick’s shoulder, mobile phone falling to the floor as he rolled his hips against Patrick’s and clenched his hand in the fabric of Patrick’s shirt.

Pressing his lips against Patrick’s ear, Charlie murmured quietly, breathily, and absolutely, unbelievably deliciously, “God, fuck, I’m so hard right now. How could you do this to me with Raleigh right fucking there? You’re a sadistic, Patty, and I want to fuck your mouth with your hands bound behind your back until you’re gagging for it like the cockslut we both know you are.”

Patrick quickly pulled his hand out of Charlie’s ass to sink his teeth into his wrist as he groaned desperately. He was so out of it at those words he hadn’t notice when Charlie had moved a hand into Patrick’s pants, carefully slipping a single finger up to the first knuckle into his tight, dry hole while his leg slipped between Patrick’s to provide enough friction and pressure to have Patrick coming in his pants like teenager, eyes rolling back and Charlie’s lips coming over his to swallow his keens and moans.

When Patrick came down from his toe-curling orgasm with a sigh, his eyes flickered open to narrow on Charlie who smirked at him impishly. “Happy Christmas, Trick,” he said sweetly as he leaned down to press a long, honeyed kiss to Patrick’s lips.

“Fuck you, Chazza,” Patrick remarked.

Charlie laughed and hopped to his feet, plucking Raleigh up and throwing him over shoulder as the little boy giggled. “Let’s grab breakfast while Daddy gets himself together, hmm?” He tossed Raleigh in the air, and the boy squealed delightedly and kicked his feet as he grinned up at Charlie adoringly.

Snow got to her feet, gently nudging the kitten curling into a ball on the cushion they’d bought for him, before trailing the pair of them into the kitchen. Charlie shooting him a glance over his shoulder and nodded once, deliberately, towards the wet spot on the crotch of his pajamas. Patrick flipped him off but got to his feet, making his way to the stairs.

“We watch Rudolph with brekkie, please?”

“Absolutely.”

By the time Patrick took a quick shower, trading in his sleeping pants and cotton t-shirt for a pair of Ralph Lauren Jersey pants and a Boba Fett hoodie, Charlie and Raleigh had settled on the floor of the living room with a plate of Nutella banana crepes, sausage links, and three steaming mugs of tea sitting on the coffee table while the original _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ played over the television screen.

For a moment, Patrick stood in the doorway with his eyes resting on the two boys he loved most in the world. Raleigh carefully pulled a slice of banana out of his crepe and popped it into his mouth, smiling broadly at Charlie who leaned over to tap the tip of his nose with a feigned disappointed scowl. He giggled. Swooping up the can of whipped cream, Charlie rolled his eyes and covered the cut-up crepes completely, Raleigh’s eyes going wide and a bright smile flickering across his face as he waggled his eyebrows at Charlie. He gaped and laughed at their son, shaking his head.

“Oh my God, munchkin, you’re a mess, you know that?”

“I knew that,” Raleigh said curtly, beaming as he stuck a fork-full of whipped cream and Nutella in his mouth.

The love he could feel welling in his breast for the pair of them was so overwhelming it nearly brought him to his knees, and he took a long, jagged breath and pressed the heel of his hand into his eyes to keep the welling tears from falling. With a shake of his head, he ran a trembling hand through his hair before making his way to the tree and plucking up the two packages he’d gotten for Charlie for Christmas.

“You gonna eat sometime today, Pattycake?” Charlie called from where he sat, whacking Snow’s nose lightly when she made for a bite of the crepes.

Drawing in a choked breath, Patrick’s shaking hands unwrapped the paper from the box as he rocked back on his heels. He clenched his fist around the Tiffany’s box and clutched the second, thinner package to his chest as his eyes found Charlie and Raleigh, the latter blowing lightly on his tea and sipping it lightly. Raleigh’s tongue tapping against the roof of his mouth as he turned to Charlie and held it out with his nose wrinkled.

“Needs more sugar, papa.”

Charlie looked over with a smile and dipped his pinky in the amber liquid and tasted it, raising his eyebrows even as he pulled the cup closer and spooned a little more sugar into the tea. “Honestly, love, anymore sugar and it’ll be tea-flavored liquid candy.”

“Yummy candy,” Raleigh giggled happily, taking back his tea and testing it carefully. He grinned brightly and took another swallow, humming cheerfully and eyelashes fluttering blissfully.

_God this kid is such a damn character._

Patrick had lucked out on two fronts: amazing kid and fantastic boyfriend…fiancé…maybe…

_If I ever get the courage to ask._

“Patty?” Charlie called, looking up and frowning at whatever he saw on Patrick’s face. Slowly, Charlie got to his feet and took a step towards Patrick, radiating nervousness.

_And, shit, this is not how this was supposed to go._

“I was gonna do this later, Chaz,” Patrick start uncomfortably, his voice cracking. Charlie’s eyebrows rose, and he took a step closer while Patrick shook his head and cleared his throat. “But I need to do it now, because it’s the right time.”

“Okay,” Charlie nodded, smiling slightly, confused but more relaxed.

Patrick tossed the wrapped parcel on the sofa and cleared his throat, “Chaz.”

“Patty.”

“Charlie,” he started again, hesitating.

Charlie’s lips curved up into a smile, and Raleigh stood and turned, eyes wide with growing realization and burgeoning excitement. Patrick put a finger to his lips and winked at his son as Charlie said dryly, “Patrick.”

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” Patrick reached out and took Charlies hand as his boyfriend smiled slightly, loving, blushing as he nodded. “I know that this is never going to be easy, we’ve never been easy, but I want to spend the rest of my life arguing with you and cooking with you and bitching when you critique my outfits but let you pick them out anyway. I want to have no more than three kids with you because anymore than that is excessive and ridiculous and we’d be hopelessly outnumbered.”

Raleigh came over to hold Charlie’s other hand and lean against his leg as he smiled up at the pair of them. Charlie gave a wet laugh and grinned his adorable dimpled smile at Patrick even as silent tears fell from his eyes and down his cheeks, glistening against his golden skin in the warm glow of the white lights from Christmas tree. He brushed the tears from Charlie’s eyes with his knuckles and continued.

“I want us to be a team. I want to grow old with you and make trouble with you until we have some kind of super dramatic culmination to our lives like the _Notebook_ – ”

“Film or book,” Charlie teased.

“Film, definitely,” Patrick replied lightly, as he slowly fell to his knees and open the box as he met Charlie’s eyes as his boyfriend picked up Raleigh and settled him on his hip as he sobbed into his hand, still grinning. “I want to love you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me, Chazza?”

“You’re such an asshole!” Charlie cried, and Patrick laughed, taking that as a yes. He surged up to press a kiss to Charlie’s lips, wrapping an arm around his neck to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you,” Charlie murmured into his mouth.

Patrick grinned, “I know.”

Charlie smacked his chest and laughed, brushing a tear from his cheek. “Fuck off, you do not get to Han Solo me, you dick.”

“Kiss meeeee!” Raleigh exclaimed, whining.

The pair of them met eyes before moving as one, grinning and pressing a kiss to each of Raleigh’s cheeks. Raleigh squealed happily and threw his arms around their necks in a weak semblance of a hug.

“Love you, Daddy. Love you, papa. We get married now?”

“Not today,” Patrick told his son.

“But soon, I promise,” Charlie finished, pressing a kiss to Raleigh’s cheek and making the little boy beam brightly. Charlie took the ring box from Patrick’s fingers with a dimpled smile and held it open between him and Raleigh. Raleigh reached for it before drawing back until Charlie jostled him and nodding towards the ring, watching as the toddler plucked it out of the cushion and held it so close to his face that he went cross-eyed. “That’s beautiful…” Charlie said, and Patrick quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Who’d you bring for help?” He inquired slyly.

“Fuck off,” Patrick huffed before admitting, “Poppy, Salem, and your spawn here.”

“Knew it,” Charlie mouthed, grinning and leaning forward to give Patrick a lingering kiss. “You did good, Trick.”

“I’d hope so. I had to harass a girl for that ring.” Patrick informed him.

“Words!” Raleigh exclaimed, pointing at the interior of the ring and holding it up for Charlie who took it carefully and frowned as he read the words before his eyes filled again, and he smiled up at Patrick, slipping the ring on his left ring finger before reaching out to tug Patrick in for another kiss.

“I love you, Patrick.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

Charlie wiped his eyes and shifted Raleigh into his lap as he picked up the parcel, eyebrows rising as he held it up. “And what’s this then?”

Patrick laughed and settled himself beside Charlie and Raleigh, lifting up the kitten as he pawed against Patrick’s pant leg. It stumbled over his lap to nuzzle Raleigh’s outstretched hand as Charlie tore off the paper and frowned at the manila envelope. His eyebrows drew together, puzzled as he tore open the envelopes and pulled out the documents inside. At once his eyes filled as he turned to look over at Patrick.

“Fuck, Patty, it’s supposed to be a happy day, and you’ve got me breaking down in tears twice now. What the hell is this?”

“I let him pick what he wanted, and he wanted you. I’ll admit Raleigh Beck has a better ring to it than Raleigh Gallagher anyway. That’s a mouthful.”

Charlie laughed wetly and gave Patrick a smile so full of love that it nearly brought him to tears. He shook his head. “You let him pick Kylo as a middle name?”

“Look, Sunshine, _anything_ is better than Dashiell.”

* * *

“Happy Christmas, darlings!” Libby called out joyfully as she appeared from the kitchen with a full plate of gingerbread cookies that Patrick  _knew_ she hadn’t made. She pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks and tugged onto Raleigh’s curl as Patrick set him down and let the boy run into the house, screaming happily. “Your grandparents are in the living room talk with Katya.”

“She came in from Russia?” Charlie asked in surprise.

Libby nodded and grinned, “Bailey and Salem are already here. All your cousins, Patty, and your stepfather and your mother. Jarek and Lorraine flew in with Kaja from Poland. Apparently Poppy’s dating Patrick’s little model…what the hell? Why did no one tell me?” Libby started to turn away when she stilled, turning back towards Charlie and Patrick, holding a finger up. “Tasha. Damien. And your father brought his girlfriend.”

Charlie’s mouth dropped open in surprise while Patrick frowned, confused. “No fucking way.”

Nodding, Libby made her way into the kitchen when Fitz gestured for her wildly.

Patrick turned to Charlie who raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “Don’t freak out,” he ordered as he tugged Patrick into the living room.

Ignoring how majority of his family had gathered in their Christmas jumpers and talked over spiked mugs of cocoa or where Raleigh sat in his mother’s lap and smiled shyly at Patrick’s grandparents, his eyes focused instead on where Samuel Beck sat in all his glory beside the slim, lithe figure in a white Sandro lace dress and a pair of red and gold stiletto heels. Sienna Mortimer turned from where she stood chatting with a pinched Tasha and a seemingly relaxed Damien, a mug of eggnog in hand and Samuel’s toned arm around her waist.

“But that’s…”

“Uh-huh.”

“She’s work…”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re father’s still…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m fine.” Patrick nodded, turning instead when Poppy called out for them excitedly, Ra-Ra and a bemused Shannon trailing behind her in complimentary red and green, form-fitting dresses with collars and lace shoulders. “Hey,” Patrick pasted on a smile, deciding to ignore the elephant in the room for the time being as he wrapped Poppy in a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek before doing the same with his cousin and Shannon who’d come to the party less like a fashionista and more like Patrick in a pair of jeans and her Christmas jumper. Brian and Adam hugged them in greeting with Uncle Cody and his daughters, Bridget and Anna, coming behind him.

With a skill he had barely been aware he’d acquired, Patrick greeted his grandparents, introducing them to Raleigh and him to them before exchanging tense greetings with his mother who slipped in a passive-aggressive comment about the ‘outrageous fine’ his sister had been slapped with and her getting fired from _The Sun_ and blacklisted thanks to Salem’s continued efforts. Rory shushed her as Salem had come to say hello, stealing Raleigh’s attention and earning a glare from Kennedy as he and Bailey hugged the pair of them, Salem smirking with knowledge when his gaze moved to the ring on Charlie’s finger as he elbowed Bailey to point it out to his boyfriend, amused.

They’d chatted with Jarek and Lorraine about their not-at-all upcoming wedding (apparently it was going to be the longest engagement in history) and their upcoming work schedules as everyone made the unconscious decision to completely avoid Sienna and Samuel. Libby dragged over Kaja and Tasha to say another round of hellos before Patrick moved on to Damien and Fitz who’d drawn Uncle Cody and Rory into a conversation about economics and international sports.

When they’d settled with Raleigh sprawled blissfully on a chair between Patrick’s grandparents, Christmas dinner on the table, Patrick cleared his throat and stood after a nod from Libby. He looked down at Charlie who smiled up at him brightly. Patrick gripped his hand and cleared his throat. “Chaz and I have an announcement to make.” The table quieted, and Raleigh squealed while Salem met the toddler’s eyes across the table and nodded exaggeratedly. Bailey sighed exhaustedly and shook his head even as he leaned against Salem who patted his arm in consolation. “Chaz and I are getting married.”

“Oh my God!” Libby squealed excitedly over Kennedy’s furious, hissed, “What?”

“You promised, Kennedy,” Rory warned her when Patrick narrowed his eyes on him.

“Is this a good idea?” Samuel added, bolstering Kennedy.

“Because _you’re_ one to lecture anyone on marriage,” Kaja snorted, raising her glass and clinking it against Libby’s. “We should start a club.”

Patrick sat down beside Charlie and shook his head, leaning into him, “Dear God, this family.”

“You’re too young, and this is poorly thought through,” Samuel continued.

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” Poppy snapped while Jarek rolled his eyes, “Maybe he’s just learning from example. No offense, Chaz.”

“Some taken,” Charlie added, looking to Salem who nodded and tapped Bailey. They got to their feet and swept Raleigh out of his seat.

“Want Bailey to teach you some soccer?”

“ _Football_ , Salem!”

“Come on.”

Charlie squeezed the bridge of his nose as their families devolved into arguments. He pulled out his mobile phone and pulled up Twitter while Patrick raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his wine. Libby and Kaja shouted at Samuel. Lorraine and Poppy at Sienna who fired back as good as she got. Uncle Cody, Tasha, and Rory had it out with Patrick’s mother. Adam and Brian had disappeared with Adam’s younger sisters while Shannon and Ra-Ra played a game of Words With Friends while Damien and Jarek starting talking about the news publishing industry. Murphy and Norah merely locked gazes and rolled their eyes before turning to chit-chat with Fitz and Katya.

“I’m doing something constructive, obviously.”

Patrick snorted and pulled out his phone, waiting for the drama to fizzle out.

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

“You’re everything and then some…”

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

What’s in a name? It’s been a great day. Happy Christmas everyone #goodluckwiththefam


	50. "Perfect" by One Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Beck turns his public persona off

**Mystery _Ethereal_ toddler Patrick Gallagher’s son?**

The question on everyone’s mind since the video of _Ethereal_ cast favorite toddler reciting lines with Patrick Gallagher from _Star Wars: The Force Awakens_ while filming on location in Scotland was just who the adorable kid belonged to? Since then speculation of parentage has ranged from executive producer, Taylor Davis, to director, Scout Kendall Markham, to makeup artist, Miriam Hosnan, to _Ethereal_ cast members without any real solid leads. Amidst the speculation, the toddler landed a role on the show, an A-list Hollywood agent according to the rumor mill, and several prime and adorable shots of him running around in designer baby clothes on the _Ethereal_ set. However, photos taken by Irishborn actor, Patrick Gallager’s, family members of the Christmas holidays point to him being the father. New Victoria’s Secret model and cousin, Ra-Ra Ahearne, posted photo as the pair beside a massive Christmas tree labeled: ‘Like looking in a mirror…or a black hole of time travel.’ There’s been no official denial or confirmation from Gallagher’s team about the child’s paternity.

**Comments:**

**anna_gr33nga6l3:** Think it’s his an Evelyn Merrit’s rugrat?

 **ithappenedlikethis:** And Evelyn Merritt showed up preggo…when exactly?

 **MyBabyKillian:** Why all the cloak and dagger over this kid?

 **Anonymous:** Maybe this little thing called privacy?

 **Siobhan_sDragon:** Maybe he wanted to protect his child and its mother?

 **KingNaoiseConsortKilli:** Maybe he didn’t know…looks like the kid from that Ipswich Argos abandonment case…

 **Anonymous:** Don’t be disgustin!!!!

 **CaderynAndNaoise:** Don’t be an idiot…could happen…father would be notified if mama ran away and abandoned her secret celeb baby

 **bestillmychatrickheart:** That tree from ra-ra’s pic is at charlotte harboune, Charlie beck’s mom’s, house. Salem Petrov and Arthur Bailey posted an xmas pic in front of it with chaz, poppy, charlotte, charlotte’s hubby, and Salem’s parents. I’m just saying.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Waking up at 12 with Boxing Day roast already raring to go #goodthings

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@StPatty_ lazy little swine. Get up!

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@13poppies except you’re still in bed too, aren’t you?

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@Salem_Daiki no bitch I’m out riding the east trail.

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@13poppies lmao rly @CharlieBeck @Salem_Daiki and I ran west. Come find us…

 

**Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

Wishing everyone a happy new year from Sydney! Here’s to hoping for another great year for music, family, and love from me to you :*

* * *

“Happy New Year! Do you want a JELL-O shot? I think you do?” Kala called out to Charlie, laughing as he forced a bright, rainbow colored shot glass into Charlie’s hand.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head before clinking glasses with Kala, the pair of them downing the shots and making disgusted faces as they shook their heads. “You’re the devil.”

“And you’re not drunk enough,” Kala pointed out never mind that Kala himself wasn’t the slightest bit drunk and had been snacking and drinking enough water in a calculated enough way to suggest to Charlie that he had absolutely no intention of getting drunk anytime soon if at all.

Mikala Hina, Elena’s step-brother, hadn’t been a guaranteed guest at this little get together on one of Elena’s beautiful model friend’s beachside Sydney home only ten minutes from Charlie’s stepmother’s home. Even still, Charlie would be eternally grateful that he had taken time out of his schedule to fly from New Zealand where he’d been shooting some fantastical movie near Mount Galileo close to the country’s western coast. The Hawaiian actor had shown up with a broad grin, his generous muscles on full display, and a bottle of premium vodka that the host had taken with a thankful smile of someone completely smashed. He’d proceeded to throw an arm around Charlie’s shoulders with a wink to his sister about how he was stealing Charlie from her for the time being.

God bless the man for that alone.

Playing pretend 24/7 with Elena wore and tore on Charlie’s nerves, and between Patrick live-chatting setting up for the New Year’s Eve party at Israel’s sprawling penthouse flat in Chelsea and Raleigh’s own messages with alternated between asking why he wasn’t there and when he’d be getting back and various images of the cat and dog curled up all over the house, Charlie had been ready for a complete and utter breakdown since he’d been ordered to Sydney for New Year’s by his manager, a move that had been surprisingly seconded by Harry.

Harry who moved in mysterious ways.

Harry who made it super hard to trust him.

“Why such a serious face?” Kala interrupted Charlie’s latest round of brooding.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” was Charlie’s only response to this.

Kala cocked his head and studied Charlie for several minutes silently. Ani Tiernan made her way over to the outdoor bar by the pool, greeting Charlie cheerfully and pecking his cheek as she ordered a martini, waving at Kala as she sauntered away, tossing back the entire contents of the glass in one go. Alexander Wingham, one of Charlie’s former costars, made his way over with his supermodel fiancé, Juliette Fontaine, on his arm, the pair of them saying hello to Charlie cordially and yet warmly. Juliette’s eyes moved over him with a thoughtless, sultry look with no real intention behind it; Alexander made note of it in any case and leaned over to whisper something in her ear that her throwing back her head and laughing.

“Don’t mind her,” Alexander remarked easily, handing Juliette a Margarita.

Juliette squeezed Charlie’s arm lightly, giggling, “ _Oui_ , I just like to look at beautiful things. _Some people_ ,” she slanted her fiancé a long look that he ignored with a sip of his Corona, “call it sexual harassment, but I say that’s only a word for men, _non_?”

Charlie’s lips curved into a smile automatically as he shook his head. “Way to send gender equality back into the Dark Ages, _ma cher._ ”

She giggled and pressed a peck to his lips, waving her hand dismissively, “My, you _are_ a charmer.”

“Me?” Charlie pretended to gasp, “Never. Never. Simply an admirer of fabulous women.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and shook his head while Kala’s eyes darted between the three of them, taking in the whole scene. “Don’t encourage her, Charlie.”

Juliette whacked him in the chest with the back of her hand, “You should take note, Alex. _This_ is how you flatter a woman.” She turned back to Charlie and inclined her glass towards him while Kala sipped his rum and coke, eyes not once looking away from the scene playing out in front of him. “Okay, tell me since you ought to know, what do you think of this outfit? Truly. All Alex could say was ‘it would look better on the floor.’ Hardly the praise I’m looking for.”

“I stand by it!” Alexander laughed, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek.

Always happy to peruse fashion, Charlie took stock of the outfit in question that the model had chosen to arrive. “Dolce & Gabbana daisy print. Three-quarter sleeves. Black. It doesn’t exactly scream party or New Year. It’s very toned down and casual for this kind of a party. Casadel pumps that fade from pink to nude do not match. At all. And don’t really go with your outfit. Alexander McQueen clutch…I like but not with the rest of your ensemble.” Juliette laughed delighted as Charlie wrinkled his nose and asked bluntly. “Did you get dressed with your eyes closed?”

Alexander shook his head, “She has a stylist.”

“Fire her.”

“It’s a man,” Juliette pointed out.

“Even better,” Charlie retorted.

Kala leaned over to whisper to Charlie. “I figured you might need back up. That’s why I came.” His eyes raked over Alexander and Juliette before he shook his head and said with amusement, “Obviously not.”

Charlie stilled and frowned, smiling at the pair in front of him. “Lovely to see both of you again. Excuse us.” He grabbed Kala’s arm and started to tow him away.

“Of course,” Alexander spoke, bemused, “have fun.”

“But not _too_ much fun,” Juliette returned, eyes sparkling as her assessing gaze swept over Kala.

Kala laughed. Charlie colored.

Tugging him away from the crowd, Charlie and Kala hopped off the deck and towed off their shoes as they landed in sand, tossing them on the mat at the foot of the stairs. The private beach sport nearly – though only just – as many people who’d been packed into the house shooting off firecrackers while they lounged on the chairs in the sand or roasting marshmallows around a bonfire that someone had had the forethought to bring. The pair of them made their way through the throng of half-drunk celebrity party guests to the chilly waters edge.

Charlie dug his toes into the wet sand and let the water gently lap at his ankles after he rolled his pant legs up.

Kala had no such compunction about the state of his clothes.

He walked out into the chilly water until he was knee-deep, tilting his head back and running his hands through his shaggy hair.

Briefly, Charlie was reminded of Elena telling him about how Kala had only recently come out to their family about being gay after years of trying to be something else. He wondered what that must have been like to be so afraid to be who he was, but Charlie wouldn’t ever ask even if he couldn’t fully relate. For all Charlie’s issues, accepting his sexuality had never been one of them.

He wanted to ask if Kala had plans or a desire to come out, but didn’t.

Not when his mind automatically leapt to how difficult that would be.

Everyone had told Charlie from the first that coming out would be difficult when his family was so famous, he was so young, the world was still so intolerable, he was still building his reputation as an international film phenomenon, he was focusing primarily on action or fantasy films. There’d always been an excuse, but Charlie also knew that coming out for him would be easier than coming out for Kala.

Charlie wore women’s clothes and publicly acknowledged it, outwardly admitted he loved his male best friends (and never once clarified _like a brother_ ), and had been photographed more than once wearing nail varnish. More than one blogger had noted his penchant for women’s jewelry. Even the press thought his ‘string of conquests that weren’t conquests and adored him even after breaking up’ was weird, and he practically sat on Patrick’s lap in interviews.

The list of people who thought Charlie Beck was 100% straight was short one.

Kala, on the other hand, had the kind of look and physique that made no one ever question the possibility of him liking anything over than women. Mikala was all burly muscle under gorgeous sun-darkened golden skin, a host of Polynesian tattoos over one arm and down his side, and dark, thick hair that came down in a beard and mustache. He embodied everything people thought of as a hyper-masculine man’s man, and for years he’d lived it as well dating all the most beautiful women in Hollywood, long-term, loved up, unerringly open about it in a way that Charlie had absolutely never been with his public dating life.

“It’s not my business,” Kala spoke first, turning to peer back at Charlie.

“What’s not?”

Kala slanted him a look that said Charlie wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all him before indulging Charlie and waving a hand. “Your…whatever you’re doing.”

“She’s your sister.”

“She’s a moron,” Kala returned lightly, turning to face Charlie. “I love my sister, honestly, but she’s no angel, she’s done some shit to make herself well-known, well-loved, and high profile. Also, frankly, if she wasn’t so busy dying to get into your five hundred dollar pants, then she might have realized earlier that you’re already balls deep in Patrick Gallagher’s.” Charlie tensed, and Kala cocked his head as he studied Charlie intently, “And you _are_ , aren’t you?”

Charlie released a breath in a whoosh. “We’re engaged.”

“Wow.”

“He has a son.”

“Shit.”

“I can’t come out,” Charlie finished with a self-deprecating laugh as he ran a hand through his hair.

Kala hummed thoughtfully, brushing back his wind-tousled hair. “Can’t or won’t?”

It’s a fair enough question in this industry, Charlie supposed. Cris Emerson, Charlie, and Patrick were the exception, not at all the rule. Arthur Bailey was the industry standard: proud of who he was and who he loved but entirely unwilling to let everything he’d worked for unravel so he could become tabloid fodder. If Maggie Gallagher – God rest her unemployed, blacklisted soul – hadn’t outed the footballer, he and Salem would still be living so deep in the closet they’d be renting property from Mr. Tumnus.

It still made Charlie’s hackles rise.

“Can’t,” he clarified. Kala gave him a searching look, and Charlie sighed and continued, “My management and studio are stonewalling my plans.”

“Ah,” Kala said, nodding with understanding that spoke of experience. “So Elena…”

“Are you sure you want to talk about that?”

The actor shook his head and gestured to something behind Charlie. “No, no, Elena’s coming over here.”

“There you two are!” Elena exclaimed cheerfully as she approached in a white crochet maxi dress with her ringlets twisted up haphazardly and the lights from the fire winking off her Oscar de la Renta drop earrings that Charlie had bought her for Christmas, much to Patrick’s chagrin and his manager’s absolute delight. Kala smiled and nodded at her while Elena wrapped her arms around Charlie’s waist, leaning up for a quick kiss.

He met her halfway.

Kala narrowed his eyes on the dark ocean.

Elena laughed and leaned against his chest, smiling up at Charlie, blissfully unaware of everything even her stepbrother that Charlie had shared less than a handful of meaningful conversation with had picked up. Though, Elena knew well enough to keep a ten-foot pole between herself and anything having to do with Patrick. She rarely, if ever, asked about him, after him, or the particulars of their friendship/relationship/living situation, and his management had known better than to suggest Patrick even be pictured greeting her on one of their many ‘how can we publicly sell this’ moments.

Poppy and Libby reluctantly played along because they loved Charlie and wanted to make this easier for him, also, a bit because they knew how the game was played and how much worse it could get if they _didn’t_ play along. Salem had played along, Charlie suspected, only because he’d been told the endgame; otherwise, Salem would have done as he’d always done when his management wanted to undermine their past relationship and Charlie’s sexuality and given them the finger before dragging Charlie to gay bars for added fuel to the ‘I hate you, hear me roar assholes’ fire.

“Fifteen minutes until midnight, and you’re hiding out here,” Elena teased lightly while Charlie forced himself to smile back down at her. Kala’s eyes moved between them, and he took another sip of his rum and coke. “We can’t miss the New Year’s Eve kiss. It’s bad luck.”

Charlie shook his head and smiled down at her. “According to who?”

“According to everybody.” Elena replied brightly, wrapping her arms around Charlie’s neck and pressing a kiss to his jawline.

Kala’s eyebrows rose, and he looked away about as uncomfortable as Charlie felt.

“I don’t remember ever hearing that,” Charlie spoke.

“Boo,” Elena drawled, laughing as she peered over her shoulder at Kala. “You’ve heard of this, haven’t you Kala?”

“Mmm, I might have,” Kala remarked offhandedly. “But I wouldn’t want to get involved in your marital argument so…” He shrugged, and Elena scoffed as she turned back to Charlie with a sultry, lusty smile that made Charlie’s stomach churn uneasily.

Elena ran her hands over Charlie’s chest as she leaned into him, standing on her tiptoes in the chilly waters of the Tasman Sea. Her hand clenched in his hand and tugged him down and into a kiss; his hands went to her waist gingerly and his eyes landed on Kala whose face pinched with discomfort.

_Same, Kala, same._

“Hang around for our midnight kiss and the fireworks, and then we can say goodbye, go back to the hotel,” Elena’s hand skimmed down over Charlie’s chest and down to the waistband of his pants to tug intently as she looked up into his eyes, her own lust-filled and heated. “It’s time,” she whined, pressing her body against his, “we’re ready. And, God, I want you so much I’m wet just _thinking_ about it.”

Kala choked, drawing both their attention away and giving Charlie a chance to get himself together after that blatant overture that a man into that kind of…gender might actually think was sexy. Charlie was not that guy.

“Wow, I’m gonna go,” Kala spoke, downing the rest of his drink.

“Are you?” Charlie asked with dread.

“I am,” Kala confirmed, knocking the back of his fist against Charlie’s elbow as he walked away, “Call me if you need anything.”

“Bye Kala,” Elena said pointedly. Kala just laughed at her as he made his way back towards the house.

“Elena,” Charlie started, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Charlie, baby, please,” Elena said. “I want this. I want _you_. We’ve been together for months, and everything’s _so_ good. Don’t you want this too?”

“I can’t, Elena. Why are you bringing this up again?” Charlie huffed in frustration.

“Because I want this! I know you said that you wanted to wait until we were ready, and we were in this, but we are! I love you. You love me. Why are we _still_ putting this off?”

“It’s been four months. Barely.”

Elena crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, tears welling in her eyes in a display that went straight into Charlie like a punch to the gut. “I love you, and I just want to be closer to you.”

“Sex and intimacy are not the same thing, Elena. They’re not,” Charlie started, tone steely.

“I know that, but we’re in love, aren’t we? Why won’t you do this with me? Why won’t you – ”

“I don’t want to have sex with you, Elena,” Charlie stated coldly, stilling Elena in her tracks. “I have no intention of having sex with you, and I never have.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as tears started to fall down her cheeks as she shook her head, hurt, dismay, and pain evident in their depths. “Was this all just a game to you? Was _I_ just a game to you? I know this started out as PR but you told me you loved me. You told me this is more than that.”

“I didn’t _tell you_ anything. You assumed all of that,” Charlie snapped. “I mean, God Elena, I’m a total slut. The entire world knows how much I need to get laid. What exactly did you think when we weren’t fucking for _months_?”

Elena gaped at him, devastated, “You’ve been cheating on me the whole time?”

Charlie sighed, exhausted and shook his head. “I can’t do this.” Without another word, he turned and made his way back towards the house, only half aware of Elena following behind him, her humiliation, shock, and grief giving way to righteous fury.

“You introduced me to your friends and your family! You told me about your best friend’s son! But this whole time you’ve been playing with me and cheating on me and stringing me along for _what_? Publicity? An ego boost? What is wrong with you?” Elena fired at him.

Turning, Charlie crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. He didn’t know what to say, not really, so he didn’t say anything. He picked up his shoes and made his way inside, leaving Elena heartbroken and sobbing in the sand. When he found Kala on his way out, he nudged him gently, gave him a single look that had the man’s smile dropping as he spun around to find his stepsister.

With a single ‘I’m done’ text message to Harry in the cab ride to the hotel and a text message to Patrick, Charlie let himself relax.

 **Charlie:** I’m coming home. Flt leaves at 6am tomorrow

 **Patrick:** What happened?

 **Charlie:** I got tired of playng it str8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie plays nice like 90% of the time, but he's...definitely not. Both he and Elena are products of the industries they've chosen to immerse themselves in and, honestly, I'd never planned for either one of them to be very nice.
> 
> And because I love you...I'm given you another (very short and edited) excerpt :P
> 
> “When did you find out?”  
> “Before the interview. A few minutes before.”  
> His mouth dropped open in shock as he stared in shock and dawning horror. “You should not have given that interview.”


	51. "No Ceiling" by Cody Simpson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick comes about (about one of the secrets he's hiding)

**Text message from Kala**

**Kala:** Dont worry. Even tho u broke my sister’s heart we’re still cool

 **Charlie:** Lolz love. I appreciate that

 **Kala:** I thot u mite

**New Year Shocker: Charlie Beck abandons Elena Valence at NYE Party!**

Our favorite It-Couple have called it quits in a spectacular way! The British actor and American pop princess had been seen partying with friends in Sydney since Charlie Beck arrived for Elena Valence’s final concert on her World Tour on December 30th. The couple reportedly spent the next three days being joined at the hip until the ill-fated party at Australian soap opera star, Marissa Corin’s, Sydney beach house where Valence and Beck began arguing shortly before midnight ending in Beck leaving the party and flying out without a word to Valence the very next morning for London. “[Elena’s] distraught. She thought [Charlie] was ‘the one.’ She feels like she’s been played for a fool, rightly so I’d say,” a friend close to the popstar said. According to rumors, the couple might have split over Beck pressuring Valence into having sex while a source close to Beck denied the accusation. “[Charlie] has nothing but respect for women. He grew up incredibly close with both his mother and his sister. He wouldn’t pressure a woman into having sex at all. That’s complete fabrication.” Whatever the reason, our favorite Golden Couple seem to be over.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Can anyone tell me why London’s so cold all the time?

 

**Hayden Redddd (@Hay0324Redd)**

@CharlieBeck because you have no soul heart emotions or compassion #asshole

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@Hay0324Redd ooh burn or something. What exactly were you trying to imply? #fuckoff

 

**thatetherealofficial**

Yooooo have ya’ll seen the screenshots of the Ethereal Kid on set?

#dying from cuteness overload

**backstagebabyboy**

Have you seen the cast and crew pics of him just existing onset with everybody

#is it too early to start a fan club over this child

**charlieforcadeyrn**

Have you seen that Charlie Beck’s agent is the same person who reportedly represents this toddler?

#i’m not saying that means something #but it means something

**changelingsiobhan**

Have you seen all these pictures of Samuel Beck and Sienna Mortimer hanging out?

#i’m not saying they’re screwing #but they’re screwing

**blueforbrodybabe**

Have you seen that Charlie Beck signed on to do a Sci-Fi flick

#real talk

**howareyoutodaysatan**

Have you seen that Patrick Gallagher signed on to do a dystopian flick?

#how is this even real life?

**namethestarschatrick**

Have you seen that they’re reportedly going to be living together in LA?

#so says the rumor mill #or my boss #but I can’t talk about it #squeals excitedly

* * *

The list of things that they needed to make their late March/early April move to LA kept getting longer and longer. Charlie sat cross-legged on an empty table just out of view of the camera with a stylus in hand and tablet on his lap while he watched Raleigh run around set on Mahon’s back and clutching a Matchbox car in hand as he laughed at whatever Penney had whispered to him from where she sprawled out across the floor doing stretches and yoga.

 

LA To-Do List:

  1. Documents/paperwork/(Get Sadie and Xavier to handle all that shit)
  2. Get Patrick a car (do I have an actual vehicle Raleigh can ride in?)
  3. Check that out ^^^
  4. Get Raleigh’s room set up (Star Wars…or no Star Wars…ignore Pat’s opinion)
  5. What the fuck are we gonna do with all the shit here?
  6. Ask Aaron about moving…again (look into security when he says no)
  7. TELL SALEM
  8. Do I think Salem will watch the house? Maybe?
  9. Take the pets to the vet so we can get their paperwork sorted for travel
  10. Determine which clothes are staying and which are going
  11. Stop stressing out (love, Patrick)



With a heavy sigh, Charlie shut off the tablet and downed last of his fru-fru Starbucks coffee, tossing the cup into the bin as Harry came up beside him. Wordlessly, his publicist shoved his feet off the chair he’d been using as a foot rest and plopped down in it, twining a strand of cinnamon hair around his pointer finger and taking a sip of his Lucozade, ignoring the probing look that Charlie sent his way until he was good and ready.

Harry Benton-Sterling’s presence made Charlie distinctly uncomfortable.

It wasn’t everyday that Harry showed up on set since the man operated essentially as a one-man pony trick for the time being and had all his personal attention stretched between the confidential clientele that Charlie couldn’t fully disclose with any kind of confidence. Breaking Fourth, he knew for sure, and The Daiki Company, Arthur Bailey…maybe unless that had been a one-off following Salem strong-arming him. A few he suspected but didn’t know for certain, and when it came to Sterling & Ireland, he knew better than to speculate.

Still, Harry nearly always called ahead of time unless there was an emergency.

And since taking on Ra-Ra, Harry rarely ever personally came to watch interviews.

This interview would be the first of many to come with the show’s filming officially wrapping in March and all of the cast moving on to other projects and locations. They wouldn’t be together again until the series finale ended in May, and all of the show’s main cast over the past five seasons had signed on to present the finale at a television studio in Atlanta. And the day’s interviews had been juicy with Sienna being tripped up over her possible relationship with Samuel Beck and whether Charlie knew as well as how he felt about it, Evelyn being caught in a lie about her fledging relationship with pro-footballer and Bailey’s teammate, Jorge Maldonado, Hollis coming out about dating a US Navy SEAL, Dexter revealing his sexuality without the slightest hint of remorse, and Mahon and Penney prepping for their own relationship coming out.

Charlie couldn’t imagine why Harry had come down to the studio or what this meant for either of them since Charlie’s interview had concluded ten minutes prior with the least amount of drama considering his recent histories that were still making headlines in both the US and UK after two weeks. Patrick, though, had only just sat down on the sofa across from their grinning, triumphant interviewer after being micc’ed up.

“Tomorrow, Elena Valence is releasing her second single before her album drops in February. It’s, from what I’ve been told, an hard-hitting pop song called ‘The Way I Do’ about breaking up with someone who does you wrong and betrays your trust by not being loved the same way the other person loves you. She’s going to drag you through the mud for promo, because her PR team is absolutely exceptional at their job and that’s what anyone in this industry would do.”

Charlie paused and took a moment for his mind to turn that over as he turned from watching Patrick blush and shoot Charlie a look as he graciously accepted a compliment from the interviewer about how amazing his outfit was: Alexander McQueen tree print hoodie, Sandro leather jacket, and gray skinny jeans tucked into Giuseppe Zanotti sneakers. He looked over to Harry who quirked an eyebrow and swirled the liquid inside the bottle around with a smug, easy smile that spoke of answers to great many of the questions Charlie had for the man.

“Okay…let’s start with: how did she write a breakup song about me before we broke up and when her album had already been written?”

Harry’s lazy smile widened as he shrugged, “Actually, ‘The Way I Do’ was one of the last songs to be put on her album, recorded just after the pair of you started dating. And I know about it because it was co-written by Cris Emerson when Breaking Fourth was in LA doing promo for their new album, and Elena notified him when they went ahead and decided to release that song as the next single.”

Charlie pursed his lip, hesitating before leaning forward to meet Harry’s eyes. “Cris Emerson, your best friend’s husband – ”

“And pre-eminent songwriter,” Harry added.

“Right. Whatever. Your close friend happened to write a breakup song with the woman I dated and dumped to assuage my management and studio’s desire to keep me firmly closeted. You expect me to think that’s a coincidence?”

Harry shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t expect you to think anything. I expect that everyone else, with exception of a notable few, will think it’s a coincidence unless they’re looking for it. Regardless, I’ll schedule a meeting once it’s released – and I have confirmation from Rosie’s brother who’s learning cinematography by working onset of her music video – that it’s very obviously about you, and they’ll sign over primary image rights to me because I have to clean up the mess that they made to your reputation by authorizing this farce at all.”

Barking out a laugh, Charlie shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, catching Raleigh as he ran over and leapt for Charlie and pulling him into his lap and pressing a kiss to his hair.

“You’re devious,” Charlie told Harry.

Harry nodded like this was a compliment.

“That has to be illegal.”

Slowly, eyebrows risen, Harry turned to Charlie with a look that decidedly told Charlie to shut his fucking mouth. That said enough about the situation for Charlie’s eyebrows to draw together as he looked down at Raleigh, tickling his sides until the toddler giggled and curled into a ball as he tried to shake Charlie off.

His eyes went back to Harry. “Why are you here?”

“Not happy to see me?” Harry returned, adjusting the brim of his Maison Michel black trilby hat with a languid smile

“Your visits are usually followed by bad news,” Charlie answered, letting Raleigh sprawl across his lap dramatically.

“Not today,” Harry replied succinctly, cocking his head and peering down at Raleigh. “Hey little man.”

“Funny hat,” Raleigh said in response, reaching out to tweak the brim. Harry scowled and crossed his eyes while Raleigh giggled and pressed a hand to his mouth as his wide hazel eyes stared up at Harry.

“This hat’s £415, Raleigh. Your papa bought me this hat.”

Raleigh’s head turned sharply to eye Charlie skeptically, “Bad decision, papa. I no like hat. It’s ugly.”

“Thanks, Raleigh, I feel great about myself,” Harry nodded.

Raleigh sat up quickly and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek with a grin, “Welcome Harry.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Sienna cursed as she plopped down on the table beside Charlie, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring malevolently at Li Min from across the room.

Their unit publicist seemed not at all cowed by Sienna’s display. Instead, Li Min tossed a lock of curled black over her shoulder and pointed a manicured finger at Sienna with a wordless warning implied in her gesture, body taut and lips pressed together in a hard line as her eyes narrowed on the pouting woman. A man with an earpiece and a load of black clothes on touched Li Min’s arm gently, drawing her attention towards him and the clipboard he’d had tucked under one arm instead of on Sienna.

For all Charlie and his father had issues, and no matter how he felt about Sienna having a long-standing affair with the man, Charlie had liked Sienna before his father had started screwing her, and in terms of her _as a person_ , the last of that camaraderie hadn’t faded away yet no matter how he felt about Sienna and Samuel screwing around on wife number three. In a black Escada ruffled jumpsuit with a red Sandro waist belt paired with Gianvito Rossi red heels, Sienna appeared both svelte and ruffled, her face red and screwed up with frustration.

Harry glanced between her and Charlie before shrugging his shoulder and rising to his feet.

“Problem?”

“Just Li Min micromanaging my whole life,” Sienna huffed. She paused and turned towards Charlie with a guilty look on her face, and he knew what she was going to ask before she did. “You saw my interview. I never asked how you feel about Sam and…”

“Not my business,” Charlie shook his head. “You and I don’t have a problem. It’s your life.”

“You didn’t talk to me at Christmas,” Sienna muttered quietly.

Charlie sighed and looked over at Sienna, studying her quietly as Raleigh clambered down from Charlie’s lap to throw himself into Dexter’s arms with a delighted giggle. Turning back to Sienna, Charlie frowned at her discouraged face and admitted without the slightest hint of remorse: “I can handle you when you’re not rubbing in my face that you’re screwing my father while he’s still married to my stepmother, regardless of whether or not I like her.”

Harry leaned over and shushed them, pointing over Patrick and the interviewer pointedly. Charlie shared a look with Sienna, both of them frowning as they turned to watch and listen to the interview with confusion.

* * *

Patrick had spent entirely too much time with Charlie since his immediate assessment of the interviewer had boiled down to the clothes she was wearing and that he could pick out the individual brands thanks for Charlie and Raleigh’s all too frequent forays into designer clothes shops for spur of the moment shopping excursions when they’d been intending on going to the park. Zara frilly blouse, TopShop button up skirt, and a pair of black suede heels, an attempt at upscale but a bad one.

_For fuck’s sake focus._

“You’re on the tail end of filming the final season, is it going the way you thought it would?”

For all her terrible, terrible styling choices, the woman was an excellent interviewer, and Patrick had been more than a little impressed and not totally surprised by the fact that Harry had picked _this_ woman to prod into Patrick’s delicate personal life. From the way she’d given the publicist a pair of doe-eyed, lusty looks when he’d arrived during Patrick’s prep, he’d wager that they’d most likely gone to school together and probably had a short-lived affair in the meanwhile.

“I mean…not really? To be honest, I didn’t really think it would end a certain way. I try not to set my sights on anything too specific in terms of the characters, especially not with the end so near. There’s a lot that’s happened in the last few scripts that have taken even me by surprise in terms of the plot.” Patrick explained calmly, tapping his knee anxiously. His eyes darted first to Harry who’d stood up with his arms over his chest, watching with an expectant expression and narrowed eyes, and then to Charlie who stood beside Sienna seeming puzzled but not upset, not like red-faced, guilty-eyed Sienna.

The interviewer – Lyndsey – tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced down at the notes on her lap with smile. “Obviously the question that everyone wants to know is the future for Naoise and your character, Killian.”

“I don’t know,” Patrick admitted with a smile and a laugh, shaking his head. “We don’t have final scripts yet, and Chaz and Israel won’t tell me what happens. But I’ll be honest: I have absolutely sky high hopes and dreams that they end up together ruling the Unseelie Court like the perfect and amazing king and consort that we know they could be, but, yeah, I have no idea.” Patrick mimed an over exaggerated shrug.

Lyndsey laughed and nodded her head, “There’s been a lot of guest stars and former castmates flitting on and off set as the show winds down. Do you have a favorite?”

“Working with Dex is always fun, but I don’t think he counts,” Patrick pointed out.

“No, no definitely no!” Lyndsey said brightly.

“Okay,” Patrick held up his hands, “definitely the kid.”

Pausing, Lyndsey leaned forward, pressing her lips in a line and shooting a look to Harry who nodded serenely even as his fingers tapped together anxiously and his eyes darted to where Raleigh had given up paying any semblance of attention to the ongoings of interviews to talk at Dexter who nodded with his eyebrows raised and a bemused expression on his face.

“The kid?” Lyndsey finally prompted with a wide smile, resting her forearms flat on her legs as she leaned forward, “You wouldn’t by any chance be talking about the toddler from the Scottish _Star Wars_ video with you?”

“I would,” Patrick leaned back on the sofa with a lazy smile. “His name’s Raleigh.   He’s three.”

“Any truth to the rumors.”

“What rumors?” Patrick teased, raising his eyebrows and smirking teasingly. “Be more specific.”

Lyndsey nodded with a bemused expression on her face and a shrug, “Is it true that the kid – Raleigh – is your son?”

Patrick smiled slightly and shook his head as he confessed, “It is, yeah.”

“He is?” Lyndsey, despite being briefed, seemed genuinely bewildered by the admission, and Patrick gave her a genuine smile, resting his chin on his fist as he raised his eyebrows, waiting for the follow-up question. “Wow, I mean it’s been quite a few years. Did you intentionally keep him a secret or…?”

“You know what?” He offered with a smile and a shrug, “Raleigh was such a well-kept secret even _I_ didn’t know about him.”

“Really?”

“True story,” Patrick nodded with an uneasy, discomforted shrug, lacing his hands together and resting them in his lap. “His mother never notified me about getting pregnant, and I didn’t know anything about him until she…decided that she no longer had the…capability of caring for him the way he needed to be cared for. I was called in and brought him home. It’s been a big change for both of us, but we’re slowly getting through it as a family. Raleigh’s one of the best things that have ever happened to me.”

“So you have primary custody of him, then, I take it?” Lyndsey inquired carefully, hedging around the question that Harry, it seemed, had given her the go ahead to ask.

Patrick glanced at Harry who nodded and gestured for him to continue, to Li Min who had her eyes narrowed and crimson lips pursed together furiously, to Charlie who had his hands over his mouth, eyes glistening with tears, and engagement ring glinting where he’d put it on his left middle finger under orders so as not to draw more attention to it than a massive two carat yellow gold Tiffany’s diamond ring would.

“I have full custody of him,” Raleigh said as he turned to Lyndsey. “We’ve all come to an agreement that suits everyone’s needs, and if Raleigh wants to meet his mother in a few years when he’s old enough to understand everything that happened, we’ll readdress the issue then, but right now he lives with me and Chaz.”

Harry nodded as Charlie came to his side and asked him a question quietly while Lyndsey seemed stunned at the final phrase in that sentence. “You – and your son – still live with Charlie Beck?”

“Of course, he’s a live-in babysitter, has a cleaning service, and is a genuine shopaholic so I’ve never had to pick out my son’s clothes… _ever_.” Patrick shrugged and shot Charlie an impish smile. Charlie flipped him off even as he smiled broadly and shook his head, delighted and adoring and practically glowing from how happy he was. “Why _wouldn’t_ we continue living with him? Chaz and I are a team. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Lyndsey returned wryly. “What are you going to do when he moves to LA when filming wraps?”

Patrick’s lips turned up into a smirk that spoke of far too much knowledge that he had no intention of sharing with the press any time soon. His eyes darted to Charlie who laughed quietly and leaned against Harry, shaking his head and letting Raleigh plough into his legs and press his face into his leg with a wide smile on his face. His met Lyndsey as he shrugged with a bright smirk, “Don’t know? There’s always room for a live-in babysitter. Besides, who’s gonna walk the dog and the child? I’m not really the type.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Tuesday! It's been a good damn day and I am sleep-deprived. Hit the Floor got me all emotional. I re-read my favorite parts of the In the Company of Shadows series (read them! They're long, they're free, and they're glorious), and Marked in Flesh came out. I'm just going to drown in happiness today...and hopefully book my accommodation in Lisbon tomorrow (but probably not I'll be too busy bitching about Shadowhunters, which, yes, I am only watching due to the promise of a canon gay couple in an action/fantasy tv show). ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	52. "Bad Blood" by Taylor Swift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Go away parties and family drama

**Text message from The Stepmonster**

**The Stepmonster:** Is it true?

**Charlie:** Patricia…?

**The Stepmonster:** I keep seeing all these pictures

**The Stepmonster:** Nd Dante told me that Poppy told him that that girl was there at xmas

**Charlie:** You should rly tlk to my dad about this…

**The Stepmonster:** I knew he was sleeping around but is he having an affair?

**Charlie:** On 2nd thot mayb u should tlk 2 mum or kaja about this

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

The little monster is running even the damned dog ragged #saveme

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ I leave for 2hrs… #whatdidyoufeedhim

 

**Interview with Elena Valence**

**Interviewer:** Congratulations on your new single debuting number one on the Billboard charts, and your video hit a million views in twenty-four hours, which is a huge accomplishment.

**Elena:** ( _laughs_ ) I feel like Taylor Swift! I want to start wearing sparkling, skin-tight dresses and pantsuits.

**Interviewer:** Writing songs about your ex-boyfriends?

**Elena:** Everyone in the music industry writes from their personal experiences, and I’m no different.

**Interviewer:** But there are a lot of people who believe your recent song – and the music video definitely – reference your recent breakup with Charlie Beck.

**Elena:** I’m an emotionally driven artist, all of my songs are written from the feelings I was experiencing at the time, and I’m not at all shy about that. My breakup was emotional. It was hard. It hurt. And if those emotions are reflected in the song, then that’s hardly surprising and hardly a coincidence.

**Interviewer:** What actually happened there? You two seemed incredibly tight, very all-in.

**Elena:** ( _bitterly_ ) We weren’t on the same page about the things we wanted or where we stood and obviously that blew up on a large scale.

 

**Text message to Shannon**

**Patrick:** You wanna babysit on Valentine’s Day?

**Shannon:** Not rly.

**Shannon:** U romancing the bae?

**Patrick:** We have filming. Only for the nite then Sale and Bailey will take him

**Patrick:** Long weekend in Rome :D

**Shannon:** What if I have plans on valentine’s day

**Patrick:** Do you?

**Shannon:** Stfu

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck happy birthday to my bff and Happy Valentine’s Day to the love of my life @ArthurBailey

 

**RT by @ArthurBailey**

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Salem_Daiki you’re so lazy. You couldn’t put that in 2 separate messages?

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@StPatty_ I’m trying to reduce my carbon footprint…

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@CharlieBeck why is Salem such an idiot and why do we hang out with him?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@ArthurBailey Stockholm syndrome

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: Seeding

A little bit of seeding is fine. I’m approving pap shots of Charlie with Raleigh, but I’ll be completely honest with both of you, until you’re done filming I’m not at all pushing seeding for Charlie. We’ll focus on integrating Raleigh into both of your everyday lives. Don’t worry about waiting for a coming out until May. I’ve been working with Li Min, and with any luck we’ll have you out before that but obviously plans are subject to change. For now just be out and about and cutesy with the kid, and I’ll wrangle the press.

Harry Benton-Sterling

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@OfficiallyEvelyn)**

Everyday I look at Raleigh and think ‘I’ve done nothing with my life.’

 

**Mahon Orion (@MahonOftheStars)**

@OfficiallyEvelyn same he out here kicking our asses

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@MahonOftheStars still??? Isn’t that child abuse?

 

**Dexter Carroll (@DexterCarroll)**

@notthecountry the parentals signed a waiver…

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.com

From: bishop.clifford@rgta.org

Subject: Look at this script for the munchkin

Charlie and Patrick,

Your executive producer, Taylor, actually sent me this script. It’s a dramatic film being directed by your part-time director, Anders that is focused almost primarily on the children in the movie, but nothing scarring. I doubled checked the script. Anyway, you read it. Let him take a look at it. And they’re lead dropped out so it starts filming in May so they’ll need an audition tape sent to them ASAP. Let munchkin check it out as well.

Clifford Bishop

Roosevelt Garcia Talent Agency

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** What do we do if he doesn’t have any friends his own age for a party?

**Salem:** He’s 4

**Charlie:** Ok…

**Salem:** Throw a party at your mother’s house. Or your in Ireland. Invite your friends (and me and Bailey obviously). Let him horseback ride. Give him a cake. Let there be presents.

**Salem:** You’re golden.

**Charlie:** U think?

**Salem:** Yes. And pick a day soon. I have to tell my mother and grandmother.

**Charlie:** His bday actually happens this yr. So Sat 29.

**Salem:** Lovely. Bailey doesn’t play until Sun. We’re so there!

**Salem:** I found this Kylo Ren onsie.

**Charlie:** You mean you special ordered it…

**Salem:** You’ll never get me to squeal!

 

**RT by @Salem_Daiki @CharlieBeck**

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Happy birthday 4th birthday to the little boy who changed my whole life and brought me more joy and wonder than I thought I could know

 

**Gay shocker: Charlie Beck maybe hooked up with best friend?**

Pictures released via Tumblr from the url ‘21greatnoble’ suggest that British actor, Charlie Beck, might have been involved with his best friend and openly gay tech mogul, Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, in a way that was decidedly more than friendly. The shadowy account has yet to comment to question about how and where the pictures were found, but they do certainly show a tighter, flirtier chemistry between the two close-knit friends. However, despite the fanatic remarks on Tumblr, the pictures show a close relationship between two openly close men and nothing beyond that with no obvious signs of a sexual interest between the pair to be found. Anything involving a romantic relationship at this point is entirely speculation.

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

Goodbyes are bittersweet…

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@OfficiallyEvelyn)**

@SightsOnSienna ok yeah but what about that ending though????

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

@OfficiallyEvelyn I’m mourning and you’re gushing?

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

@SightsOnSienna um…yesssssss #thatendingthough

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

I thought this was supposed to be a (sad) party…why is everyone texting?

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Bitches best keep they mouths shut or I’ll cut a bitch…O.O

* * *

“You stupid asshole cunt bitch!” Patrick heard from across the room, and he turned in time to see Salem launch himself into Charlie’s arms with tears streaming down his face while Bailey looked on, shaking his head and half-smiling. Salem pulled back and cupped Charlie’s face in his hands. “I can’t believe your dumbass got me to move to the land of cold, wet, and gray just to leave me for fucking Los Angeles. How fucking dare you, dickhead? Who’s going to do breakfasts with me?”

“Bailey. Your boyfriend.” Charlie pointed out with a laugh.

“Fuck that. He’s such a health nut. All I’ll ever hear is how that has so many calories and do you know how many hours he’ll have to work out to lose those? That’s not breakfast. That’s torture.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Salem!” Bailey called as he swept Raleigh up into his arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Fuck you, Bailey! I’m over here getting emotional!” Salem called back as Charlie’s arms wrapped around his best friend as the pair of them sank to the sofa, not seeming to be letting go anytime soon. “LA’s so far away. What about Atlanta? What about New York? Why do you hate me?”

“I love you,” Charlie answered with a laugh.

“Liar.”

Patrick snorted at the pair of them, shaking his head as he made his way over to Aaron and Hannah who watched with tears in their eyes as they watched Sylvia roll around on the floor with Snow. Aaron smiled at Patrick as he came over, but it was Hannah that launched herself at him and into his arms with a choked out sob.

Aaron and Hannah had decided to stay in London in a decision that surprised no one.

Charlie had known the bodyguard he considered family wouldn’t be following them to Los Angeles, not when he had Hannah with her life, career, and family all based in London and with his daughter’s whole life deeply rooted here as well. Unlike Charlie and Patrick, they didn’t have the option to simply pack up and move to another country. Patrick had found Aaron a job working for Mahon and Penney Dear who had absolutely no desire to move out of the UK while Aaron had recommended a friend and colleague who’d recently been discharged from the US Army and lived in the area and desperately needed a job to pay his ex-wife child support.

Still, the decision had caused tears all around since Aaron and Hannah had become part of their overly large family.

“We’re gonna miss you around here,” Hannah said, brusquely wiping the tears from her cheeks.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Aaron laughed.

Patrick shook his head. “Get your kid a dog, Aaron, and don’t lecture me. I’m an adult.”

“You’re something,” Ra-Ra remarked from behind. “I doubt an adult isn’t it.”

Patrick turned and gathered his cousin in his arms while Aaron shook his head and rolled his eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist and kissing her cheek. “You’re both children. You’re still pretending that you don’t sleep with your best friend, Norah. That’s not mature at all.”

Ra-Ra grimaced at him. “Please don’t call me Norah. I feel like I’m gran.”

“Your gran is a wonderful woman.”

“Our gran,” Ra-Ra corrected Aaron, “is an absolute nutter.”

“Don’t say that!” Shannon called as she brushed passed them and into the kitchen. “She’ll hear you,” the woman whispered conspiratorially, winking as she walked away.

Patrick shook his head and leaned against the wall as his eyes skirted the room and took everything – and more importantly _everyone_ – in with the eye of a man who was about to say goodbye to his family.

It was different this time.

Different than when he’d gone to LA at eighteen to make a name for himself. This time, he wasn’t going with the intention of coming back in a few years when he’d made his mark to work in the neighborhood and be close to his family. This time Patrick was leaving to follow his career and to move forward with his own family, the one he’d chosen and adopted and pieced together with blood, pain, and tears.

There wouldn’t be a support system that they could rely on or friends who loved their son as much as they did or family members who’d be happy to host them or their son or all of them for the weekend. This would be difficult, but Patrick was ready for the challenge, ready for the future, and excited for it no matter how much of an adjustment it would make.

The house appeared much the same since they’d agreed that there was no reason to sell it since they’d inevitably find their way back to London either for work or for family. All their furniture remained, but favorite knick-knacks and pictures, artwork and movie posters, had been taken down from the walls and meticulously packed away in boxes and shipped to Los Angeles along with most of Raleigh’s room and toys as well as a good deal of their clothes.

Nothing much had changed.

And yet everything had.

There was a feeling in the room of despondency and hope interwoven and mingling together in the way that only people who loved those leaving and wanted to see them again could create. An atmosphere that both invigorated and depressed in turn. The sight was bittersweet and beautiful all at once.

Brian and Adam sat on the floor on either side of Poppy watching as she showed them something on her tablet that had both boys cocking their head with interest. Sylvia played with Snow in the hallway only smiling impishly at Libby’s startled gasp as the dog came flying towards her. Libby smiled, shook her head, and pressed a kiss to Sylvia’s forehead and waved at Aaron and Hannah before making her way towards Bailey and Raleigh who’d retreated to the backyard to play footie with Rory, Evelyn, Mahon, Scout, and Taylor while Dexter sat beside Hollis and Israel on the railing, watching them with interest. Charlie and Salem had their heads pressed close together, whispering and laughing as Fitz came strolling out of the kitchen arm-in-arm with Shannon as they made their way towards Aaron, Hannah, and Ra-Ra.

A hand touched Patrick’s arm, he startled and whirled around to meet his mother’s teary eyed gaze, and no matter the issues between them, Patrick softened and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek.

Kennedy put a hand on his cheek as she shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me. I knew he’d convince you someday.”

“Mam,” Patrick admonished, pulling back.

She sighed in frustration and shook her head. “I’m being unfair.”

“Yes.”

“I’m working on it.”

Patrick knew that, but the fact that she had to work on something like basic human decency was a huge part of the problem. They had laid out their reasons for this move, clear as crystal, to their families, but Patrick had confessed to Charlie that at least a little of his desperation to flee London came from his mother’s careless words and poor learning curve. The last thing Patrick wanted was Raleigh growing up around a woman who couldn’t manage to be polite towards the man Patrick had decided to spend the rest of his life with and had chosen to help rise a child with him. He needed her to at least respect Charlie but his mother had proven she couldn’t even do that.

Kennedy cleared her throat and shifting uncomfortably, running a hand through her newly cut hair, and Patrick tensed, already knowing he wouldn’t like where this was going. “Your sister’s here and wants to speak with you.”

Patrick groaned, “Mam…”

“Please, Patrick, it’s the least you could do.”

“The least _I_ could do?” He reeled back, outraged. Kennedy frowned at him, and Patrick nodded, making his way into the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe to watch as his mother led his sister into the room.

For all her struggles with employment, Maggie looked neither uncomfortable with her location nor particularly like she’d been losing any sleep over it. Her hair had grown out to her shoulders, bang cut a little longer and thicker, but otherwise not at all unlike the put-together professional shark who’d gotten herself in deeper than she could swim by picking a fight with a multimillionaire hacker by outing his footballer boyfriend simply because she could.

“You’re moving,” Maggie started, sticking her nose up and frowning down at her brother like _he_ was the nuisance when she’d come to _his_ house.

“What do you want?” Patrick sighed.

“Patrick,” Kennedy scolded him, making him sigh again.

“I need help.”

“You need to apologize to Salem and grovel at Bailey’s feet to curry to Salem’s forgiveness. That’s what you need.” Maggie scowled at him while Kennedy shot him a dark but pleading look. With a roll of his eyes, Patrick walked to the fridge and pulled out a Guinness, popping the tab and downing the liquid as he turned towards his mother and sister. “I’m not gonna help you. I might have considered it, if I thought you honestly had any remorse, but you don’t. You’re upset because Salem got you blacklisted. Rightly so. Fair enough. Too many of my friends are closeted celebrities for me to feel comfortable with you having a voice in this industry.”

“Patrick! Why do you have to make things so personal?” Kennedy demanded furiously. “She’s your sister!”

“She’s a parasite,” Patrick sighed.

“She’s your family, your blood, and has she even met her nephew?”

“No, I haven’t,” Maggie glared at him.

Patrick shrugged, “Charlie and I talked about it. We decided against allowing it because we don’t trust you. No one trusts you.”

“Except the public,” Maggie pointed out with a sickening smirk.

“The public doesn’t need to know everything,” Patrick hissed at her. “And the press doesn’t need to report everything! Especially not you.”

“Is this _still_ about me _doing my job_ and reporting on Elena and Charlie?” Maggie sighed as she turned to Kennedy, “Do you see what he does, Mam? Everything’s always about him and his boyfriend and his friends.”

“That’s called protecting the people you care about, which you’d obviously know nothing about.”

Kennedy shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “You should at least introduce her to her nephew if you won’t help out with the fine or her career, Patrick. You’re her brother. You were raised together. You’re family. _We’re_ your family.”

“No, mam, Charlie and Raleigh are my family, and I refuse to put them at risk because you want to play at being the godfather. Honestly, blood doesn’t mean altogether too much in this family if it doesn’t fit into the prescribed boxes of acceptability.”

Kennedy’s mouth dropped open as Maggie’s eyes shifted between them with the calculating gleam Patrick was so used to seeing that always preceded something altogether nasty. “How dare you – ?”

Whatever his mother _started_ to say was cut off by an unholy screech that had Patrick tensing before flying out of the kitchen and into the living room with his mother and sister at his heels.

The entire room stood gaping at where Sienna had shrunk behind Samuel Beck’s back as Patricia Beck, his wife who was _supposed_ to be in Sydney judging by the shocked looks on _everyone’s_ faces.

Bailey paused from where he stood in the yard passing a ball to Raleigh to frown at them. Patrick met his eyes and shook his head, and Bailey nodded hastily and turned to Raleigh with a wide smile, saying something that sent the kid running towards where Rory had set up a makeshift goal. Fitz shut the door and stood in front of it to prevent any little ears or prying eyes – aside from the pair at his back – from taking notice of what promised to be an explosive interaction.

“You insufferable asshole!” Trish hissed at her husband furiously.

“Hey, we’re…” Jarek started as he came down the hall with a bottle of Tequila in hand. Lorraine grabbed his arm and hushed him with a smack to his side and a gesture towards the drama playing out in front of them. Hannah reached out and tugged Lorraine into the little group around her and her husband while Aaron grabbed Jarek roughly, physically moving him away from the drama and out of the attention of Trish and Samuel.

Patrick located Charlie a single glance and found him rolling his eyes as he leaned against Salem, the pair of them still planted where they’d been before in the window seat only this time with irritation and disbelief on Charlie’s face and amusement and disdain on Salem’s. Libby had come to stand beside Fitz, resting her hand on Charlie’s shoulder as she leaned against her husband who accepted her weight with a sweet, loving smile and a kiss to her forehead that seemed as much a promise not to put her through something like this to her as it did a comfort for any bad memories it was dredging up.

“You swore to me that you wouldn’t do this to me, Samuel! So I let go of your lovers and your affairs when you were working and your one night stands with whores you pick up when you go out to clubs with your friends, but for fuck’s sake, Samuel, I won’t let you make a fool out of me by parading around your _girlfriend_ like she’s a part of this family.”

“This fucked up dysfunctional family,” Patrick heard Jarek murmur to Lorraine quietly.

“When you asked if I was sure I wanted to join up…” Lorraine trailed off in stunned disbelief, shaking her head.

“I didn’t mean to…” Sienna started uncomfortably.

Poppy shook her head, “Zip it, babe! Let the grown-ups talk it out.”

“You didn’t _mean_ to?” Trish hissed at her.

“That’s enough, Patricia,” Samuel ordered his wife tonelessly. “There’s no need for you to intrude in a family party and cause a scene.”

“ _I’m_ intruding in a family party?” Trish exclaimed, irate, “ _Me_? But not your two-bit tween whore parading around like she’s hot shit when she’s nothing more than a homewrecking twat.”

“A little hypocritical,” Maggie remarked under her breath, startling a quiet laugh out of Patrick while Kennedy shook her head in disbelief.

Libby snorted while Jarek nodded his head in agreement with Libby’s unspoken commentary. Lorraine edged over to sit beside Salem and lean against him, tucking her legs up under her as her eyes focused on the scene playing out in front of them. Patrick’s eyes drifted to the window beyond them where Raleigh cheered as Rory lifted him up victoriously as he high-fived Evelyn while Bailey shook his head and Mahon stuck out his tongue while Taylor and Scout murmured to each other before devolving into laughter.

As much as Patrick would miss their friends, it was probably best that they fled the country before their respective families devolved anymore.

“Watch your mouth, Patricia,” Samuel growled at her.   “You don’t need to throw around disgusting names just because you’re angry.”

“I’m _beyond_ angry, Samuel. I’m fucking furious. I’m irate, and you know what? Don’t you dare stand here and try to lecture me about my vocabulary like your kids – you know the human beings you helped create when you weren’t off sticking you penis is everything female that moved – are in the room. You haven’t been in the same room with them for _years_ so kindly take your ‘advice’ and shove it up your ass.” Trish hissed at him. Libby whistled as half-smile spread over her face, and Charlie met Patrick’s eyes across the room, shaking his head and sighing with his whole body looking a little bit amused and a lot exhausted with the drama. “God, I’m so tired of _this_ and _you_ and I think everybody is. You know, I should have listened when my mother told me to stay the hell away from you. You’re a piece of shit.”

Patrick’s eyebrows rose as he rocked back on his heels.

Kennedy pursed her lips together and leaned into Patrick’s side as she whispered quietly, “And _this_ is the family you want to marry into?”

“Don’t be disgusting, mam,” he replied, his tone arctic.

Samuel crossed his arms over his chest and stepped between Trish and Sienna as the rest of the room watch him with varying degrees of condescension and a myriad of disgust. Sienna looked like she wished she could melt into a puddle on the floor and die right then and there, but Samuel, spectacular asshole that he was, hadn’t quite finished yet. “With the way you go on is it really a wonder I’m never home? I have to work to put a roof over our heads and food on the table or would you rather go back to being a dirt poor au pair? Don’t pretend like you’re a martyr, Trish! You stuck around because you loved the money and lifestyle not because you loved me!”

“It’s hard to love you when you fuck around on me _half a year_ into our marriage! We’d barely finished our honeymoon, and I’m at home being pregnant and sick while your off screwing some big-chested blonde bimbo you met down at the bar with not even two brain cells to rub together!” Libby nodded in understanding, and Charlie ran a hand through his hair, seeming tired of the whole charade. Salem reached up to pat Charlie’s cheek soothingly as his eyes locked with Patrick’s pointedly.

Untangling himself from his family as he made his way over to Charlie and Salem, Patrick squatted down in front of his fiancé and rested his hands on his thighs. “You want to grab the munchkin and Bailey and go somewhere that isn’t full of family dysfunction and strife?”

“Please,” Charlie sighed quietly.

Salem met Patrick’s eyes and got to his feet as he nudged Lorraine, “You want to come?”

Lorraine nodded, “I’ll grab Jarek and meet you all out front.”

“I’ll grab Bailey and Raleigh and meet you guys at the car.”

Patrick led Charlie through the house, saying a quiet discreet goodbye amid the flurry of arguments, plucking Raleigh’s jacket from the coat hook by the door. Less than two hours later, most of the party had migrated from the house of horrors to a McDonald’s, trading stories over fries. And Charlie leaned into Patrick and said, “I’m gonna miss Bailey and Salem, but we need to leave.”

Patrick couldn’t agree more.


	53. "Hands to Myself" by Selena Gomez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sex, Parenting, and Wedding Planners

**Nia Lionides (@Nia01988x)**

S2g I just saw @StPatty_ @CharlieBeck in LHR with Raleigh ^.^ #howfuckingcool

 

**Patricia Markowitz (@markedtrish2000)**

Out with the old and in with the new. Might be late but self respect is my NYE resolution #divorce #fuckyou

 

**Text message from Harry**

**Harry:** Just an fyi for when you land

 **Harry:** Trish confirmed she’s divorcing Samuel so prepare for that shitstorm when you land

 **Charlie:** Just landed. Separate cars for me/Raleigh and Pat?

 **Harry:** I told Sadie to arrange it.

 **Harry:** Best to keep them out of the direct shitstorm for a while.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Back to LAX…sigh…but the munchkin seems to love it so I guess there’s that…

 

**Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher co-parenting in LA?**

It’s only been a week since filming for the hit television show _Ethereal_ wrapped in London and already the cast have started to go their separate ways until reuniting to host the finale premiere in May. Charlie Beck confirmed his roll on upcoming and highly anticipated Sci-Fi film, _Light Echo_ , alongside Mikala Hina and Nicya Monoya along with announcing he would be moving permanently back to Los Angeles for his career, admitting, “London had never meant to be permanent. I’d planned to stay for the duration of _Ethereal_ , but I’ve spent most of my life in Los Angeles. London’s never really been home.” Patrick Gallagher who confirmed his upcoming role in dystopian thriller, _Parallel_ , shortly before coming out about having a four-year-old son never defined his future plans but according to rumors he hasn’t gone far. It seems like only the location has changed, but not the circumstances. Beck and Gallagher were spotted with the toddler leaving London and arriving at LAX before splitting into separate cars where Beck was swarmed by fans and paparazzi. Since then, pictures from both Beck and Gallagher’s Twitter and Instagram accounts seem to place the pair living with four-year-old Raleigh in Beck’s Hollywood Hills mansion along with their three-legged dog and a kitten. Rumors have abounded for years about just how close the pair actually were, but the allegations have never proven more than gossip but on the heels on the move we might have to reconsider.

 

**Text message to Kala**

**Elena:** Are you kidding me?

 **Kala:** It’s a job.

 **Elena:** It’s not just a job. You’re friends, aren’t you?

 **Kala:** Just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to.

 **Elena:** This is such a dick move. Do you know what he did to me?

 **Kala:** He broke your heart. Not mine.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck wants to go to SoulCycle…fuck off bitch where are you?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ with the munchkin at family yoga obviously :P

* * *

Charlie’s head tipped back against the tiled wall, a scream caught in his throat that came out as a half-choked moan, and his hands clenched in his fiance’s soaked black hair as his hips rolled, rock hard cock moving in and out of Patrick’s wet, hot mouth while the man in question keened around it, dark eyes rolling back in ecstasy and hands gripping Charlie’s ass cheeks in a bruising grip that didn’t at all restrain Charlie’s movement but rather encouraged them in a maneuver that they’d managed to perfect over some manner of months.

The hot water from the shower rained down on them from all sides beating down against his sensitive skin and yet soothing and cooling as he grew overheated.

Running a hand over Patrick’s face, Charlie pressed his thumb against Patrick’s cheek, breath catching as he felt himself moving in Patrick mouth, and his dark eyes flickered to lock on Charlie’s, heated and glazed over with lust, dazed and beautiful, and if his mouth hadn’t already been busy being well-fucked by Charlie’s cock then he would have kissed the precious, perfect man he could barely believe he’d caught.

Bowing his head, Charlie stared through the curtain of his dripping hair down at his gorgeous boyfriend with absolute, unabashed adoration.

“You’re gorgeous on your knees, love,” Charlie told Patrick warmly, and Patrick eyes closed as he groaned and choked with another roll of Charlie’s hips. “With your mouth stuffed full of my cock, absolutely amazing, Trick.”

Patrick smiled around Charlie’s girth, tongue flicking over the slit and moaning at the taste of the salty precome hit his tongue. Charlie’s hips staccatoed and his head slammed back against the wall with a keening wail, hips jolting, when Patrick smirked and did a trick with his tongue that might as well be patented. The Irishman choked and moaned, eyes snapping open and focusing intensely on Charlie as his fingers slipped into Charlie’s crack and lightly prodded his hole, drawing a long, loud screech before his calloused fingers slipped through the tight ring of muscle and into the lubed channel. Each movement of his hips pushed his dick into Patrick’s mouth and then back to fuck himself on his boyfriend’s fingers.

Charlie panted, head thrown back, and ground out hoarsely, “God, Patty, I’m so close.”

“Come in my mouth,” Patrick whispered against the tip of Charlie’s flushed dick, pressing a kiss to the tip and taking him back into his mouth as his finger expertly pressed against Charlie’s prostate.

His orgasm washed over him suddenly, fingers tensing in Patrick’s hair as he cried out, face tilting up as the water cascaded over it and Patrick swallowing down his cum as he slipped his fingers from Charlie’s ass to skim over the sensitive thighs. Charlie released a breathy moan, and Patrick pulled back and let Charlie’s softening cock slip from his mouth.

His head rolled as his eyes locked on Patrick’s where he sat, kneeling, on the hard tiled floor, and they stared at each other for a moment, the only sounds the hammer of water against tile and their jagged breathing as they fought to catch their breath. The steam rose up around them, locking them in their otherworldly bubble of warmth and love and sex.

Between one breath and the next, Patrick surged up to capture Charlie’s lips in a heated kiss, Charlie’s eyes wrapping around his neck as Patrick lifted him, wrapping Charlie’s legs around his waist as he entered Charlie in a single smooth motion. Practiced and perfect, bringing them together between two heartbeats, their foreheads touching and their breaths mingling as a low moan fell from both their lips and combined in a beautiful harmony, music to Charlie’s ears.

Skin sliding against bare skin. Hands roving over bodies.

They moved together, as one, tongues tangling as they kiss and groaning into each other’s mouth. Charlie’s nails raked across Patrick’s back as his head fell back with a whimper, and Patrick kissed and nipped down the column of his throat sharply enough that Charlie knew without a doubt there’d be lovebites for days. His hand cradled the back of Patrick’s head, holding Patrick’s head against his neck as he sucked against the skin and fucked Charlie slowly, gently, intimately, telling him how in what precious regard Patrick held him with every touch and skim of his fingertips and rolling of his hips and kiss to his skin.

They came with each other’s names on each other’s lips, arms wrapped around each other, and the warm water streaming over their skin.

Their bodies pressed together as they came down, trading lazy kisses as they washed themselves off for the second time and smiling softly. Charlie massaged conditioner into Patrick’s hair while his fiancé hummed and smiled, utterly blissed out.

“You’re like a giant cat,” he muttered, bemused.

Patrick scoffed and tipped his head back to wring out his hair, and Charlie leaned in and nipped at his collarbone, laughing when Patrick yelped and sputtered when he got a mouthful of water for his surprise.

“And you’re a leech.”

“Excuse you,” Charlie returned, punching him in the abdomen lightly before leaning in and wrapping his arms around Patrick’s waist as he cuddle up to him. “I’m pruny.”

“We’re both pruny.”

“Your fault,” he whined into Patrick’s skin.

“I know,” Patrick responded, running a hand down Charlie’s spine and making his shiver. “Everything’s always _my_ fault,” he concurred with laughter and amusement in his voice. “Except that time we got caught with me fucking your face at your mother’s house. That was most definitely _your_ fault. I refuse to take the blame for that…and when you orgasmed during a business dinner because you had Salem hack the codes for the vibrating plug in your ass. _That_ was a hundred percent _your fault_.”

“I’m sensing a theme here,” Charlie mumbled, laughing and pressing a kiss to Patrick’s jawline.

“Daddy!” They both looked up as they heard Raleigh’s long-winded yell.

Charlie laughed and pressed a quick kiss to Patrick’s lips before stepping away from him with a smirk. “You’re being paged, Daddy,” he plucked the conditioner from Patrick’s fingers and squeezed some into his hand, turning around and stretching as he worked the conditioner in his head.

Patrick’s hands went to Charlie’s waist as he stepped up behind him, and Charlie smiled and shook his head as Patrick kissed his shoulder. “You’re such a – ”

“Papa!”

Charlie sighed and deflated, melting back against Patrick and peering up at him with narrowed eyes. Patrick smirked down at him. “You were saying?”

“Go away Satan,” Charlie huffed and pushed Patrick towards the stairs up into the main bedroom as he tipped back his head and washed the conditioner out of his hair. “Go save your spawn and let me finish my hair care routine. I’d hate to be seen around La La Land with less than perfect golden locks.”

Patrick laughed as he sprinted up the stairs, grabbing a rolled up towel from the basket on the top of the staircase, drying his hair quickly and peering down at Charlie with amusement. “How is it he’s _my_ spawn when he does something like ruin your afterglow, but he’s _yours_ when he does something like prove himself to be an acting protégé before age five?”

Charlie rinsed out his hair and grinned, flipping off the shower and jogging up the steps to press a kiss to Patrick’s lips as he stole his towel to wrap around his hair as he tugged on his robe. “Because obviously the latter is proof of my great genes while the former is proof of your plebian stock of which I only tolerate because you’re marginally good in bed.”

“Excuse _you_ asshole,” Patrick gaped as he laughed, wrapping the second towel around his waist as Charlie walked to the bathroom door and opened it with a smirk.

“Papa! You’re here!” Raleigh called, leaping dramatically into Charlie’s arms and pretending to faint.

“ _So_ dramatic,” Charlie replied as he tossed Raleigh over his shoulder and moved through the sitting room. He tossed the giggling toddler onto a long sofa as he walked into the closet and pulled it open. “We going anywhere today munchkin or are we running lines?”

“Breakfast! And then run lines!” Raleigh called excitedly.

Charlie laughed and shook his head as he pulled on a pair of ripped blue jeans and an olive green twisted layer t-shirt that had been a spur of the moment buy at Barney’s. He walked back into the room and pulled a gray beanie on over his hair as he crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on Raleigh. “Again?”

“Again,” Raleigh nodded from where his legs were thrown over the arm of the sofa as he stretched out. “In the pool too. Can we go to the playground? Can we go to the beach?”

Patrick laughed as he came out of the bathroom, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek as he passed by. “Maybe we should decide the specifics over breakfast since _someone_ keeps changing his mind.”

Raleigh turned and gave his father a droll look as he disappeared into the closet before his eyes shifted to Charlie. He sighed in exasperation. “Daddy’s always so dramatic,” Raleigh remarked, and Charlie laughed and sat down beside him, helping Raleigh shifted to lay his head in Charlie’s lap.

Charlie looked down at the his son in a pair of Diesel pilotu trousers, a Dolce & Gabbana patterned polo shirt, and a pair of studded trainers with his hair tied back in a messy ponytail. He looked almost as adorable as when Charlie styled him. “You dress yourself today?”

“Can you fix my hair?” Raleigh asked as he nodded. Charlie prodded him until he sat up, cross-legged and re-did his attempt at a low ponytail. “Do we have eggs?”

“You want an omelet?”

“And bacon,” Raleigh nodded, turning to Charlie. “I look good?”

“You look adorable,” Charlie promised, kissing Raleigh’s forehead when he grinned, delighted.

“And we always have bacon,” Patrick promised as he stalked out of the closet in a pair of ripped black Saint Laurent jeans, a black mesh tank top, and a New York baseball cap on backwards. Raleigh jumped up, arms up victoriously as he raced out of the room and doubtlessly to the kitchen. Charlie stood and side-eyed Patrick as he sidled up to his side with a worried look on his face. “We do _have_ bacon, don’t we?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and nudged Patrick with his elbow before replying tersely, “We always have bacon,” and following after their overexcited child.

“Seriously?” Patrick called incredulously and amused.

“Seriously.”

Raleigh had taken to living in another country with more ease than they’d expected, and the nervous energy he held onto tightly seemed to have fled in increments in the week since they’d taken off from England to settle in the land of sunshine, air pollution, and celebrity glitz and glamour atop the rotting corpse of a soulless city…but maybe that was just Charlie’s extreme dislike of Los Angeles talking yet again. Losing the hoodies had taken nearly having a heatstroke when they’d gone to the beach before Raleigh had calmed.

He’d also taken up the massive amount of free space by spending nearly a whole day running from room to room screaming at the top of his lungs before settling in the basement in front of the huge entertainment system to watch every single _Star Wars_ movie at an obnoxious decibel. He’d fallen asleep halfway through _Empire Strikes Back_ , but it had been a valiant effort that he’d completed when he’d woken up the next morning and munched on kale chips that Patrick had bought Charlie as a joke for breakfast.

Their home in London had been large by the standards of living so deeply entrenched in the city and considering neither of them had expected to stay with any degree of permanence, but at the end of the day, the house had been stuck in the middle of a London suburb north of Camden.

Their California mansion was none of those things.

High up in the Hollywood Hills overlooking the city central of Los Angeles, the artisan mansion had nothing but space including outdoor space from almost every room over looking the canyon below, seventeen acres of trail and forest, three floors with eight bedrooms, and a large infinity pool that Charlie had had put in only weeks before they’d moved knowing Raleigh would enjoy it. It was so big the first few days they’d put a pager on Raleigh before learning that screaming ‘Marco Polo’ worked just as well to find his location.

Most of the time Raleigh could be found on the very bottom floor with all the doors thrown open to let in a breeze and _Star Wars_ playing over the entertainment system as he spread across the floor with Solo the cat watching him with one emerald green eye where he lounged on the windowsill and Snow laid out alongside him, maniacally devoted. In less than seven days, Raleigh had managed to claim almost the entirety of the bottom floor and would undoubtedly sleep there if he’d been allowed to in addition to spending most of his days occupying it.

The doorbell rang, surprising them both, and Patrick motioned towards the kitchen as Charlie nodded and crossed the room and opened the door, frowning at the unfamiliar woman standing in the doorway and tapping swiftly on her mobile phone with her eyebrows furrowed and her lip worried between her teeth.

Charlie cleared his throat.

“Oh,” she looked up in surprise, “hello. Hi. I’m not late am I?”

“Are you?” Charlie frowned.

“I’m Elise,” was her only response to his confusion.

“Okay…”

“Your…assistant called me?”

“Okay…” _That doesn’t clear anything up, lady. At all._

Elise straightened her back and tucked a dark curl behind her ear with an uneasy smile but a determined look on her face. “I’m a wedding planner?” It came out more a question than anything else, but it clarified considerably more than anything else she’d said up to that point had.

“Oh, okay, right. Sorry. I did ask Sadie to call you…did Sadie call you? Or Avery? Because Avery’s an idiot.” Charlie shook his head and held out his hand, shaking Elise’s before stepping aside, “I’m Charlie Beck. You can come on in. We’re just doing breakfast…”

“On the terrace!” Patrick called out from the kitchen.

“On the terrace,” Charlie finished with a nod while Elise smiled and shook her head. He held up a finger and walked into the dining room, eyes going to Raleigh kneeling on the kitchen stool and watching Patrick plate the bacon while finishing up the omelet. “Need me to take anything?”

Patrick stilled and looked around. “Yeah. Orange Juice. Tea Kettle. Raleigh, you’re on cups, silverware, plates.”

“Got it!” Raleigh called, hopping down as Charlie moved to the counter and handed him the not breakable dishes.

“Who is it?” Patrick asked quietly.

“Wedding planner.”

“Ah,” Patrick nodded. “Wedding planner!” Elise appeared in the kitchen doorway cautiously, and Raleigh swept passed her with a curious frown and Snow following at his heels as he made for the door and to the terrace just off the main house and overlooking Los Angeles and the infinity pool. Patrick raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m Patrick Gallagher. What do you like in your omelet?”

Elise blinked in surprise, stuttering out, “Oh…ehm…just cheese please.”

Nodding, Patrick sprinkled cheese over the eggs, glancing from Charlie to Elise as he flipped the egg over, narrowing his eyes on her as Charlie grabbed two mugs in one hand and picked up the platter of bacon. “That’s our spawn, Raleigh. Chaz,” Charlie raised his eyebrows while Patrick nodded to the a platter of toast, “grab some butter?”

“I’d rather grab the toast.”

“I’ll get it,” Elise volunteered, plucking the butter dish from the fridge while Patrick picked up the plate of toast and the platter of omelets.

They walked outside, one after another, a little ways from the house towards the brick terrace with a massive stone outdoor fireplace in a shaded little alcove in view of the house. Raleigh sat on the chair he’d claimed as his own having set the table artfully and with Snow’s head propped in his lap.

Elise beamed at the toddler brightly, and Raleigh narrowed his eyes on her suspiciously, expression lightening when the food arrived. Charlie stole the seat beside Raleigh as Elise sat across from him, and Patrick narrowed his eyes on Charlie who smiled innocently. Patrick rolled his eyes and dished out the omelets as Charlie and Raleigh moved for the toast and bacon without pause. Patrick poured himself an orange juice while Charlie moved to pour tea for Raleigh and himself. A single glance at Elise had her half-smiling at their display of domesticity even as she hesitated, unsure how to interact with the rest of them.

Raleigh paused and cocked his head at her. “You can eat. Want juice? Tea?”

Patrick smiled softly at his son, proud, shaking his head while Elise grinned at him, relaxing. “I’ll get myself some juice, thank you Raleigh.”

He nodded sagely, watching as she poured herself a glass of juice and took a piece of toast, cutting it in half with the butter knife and biting it without any butter. Charlie grimaced while Patrick narrowed his eyes on her but didn’t say anything. Raleigh frowned, “No bacon?”

“I don’t like bacon.”

Raleigh drew back with a hand to his breast like he’d been personally offended, and Elise let out a startled laugh.

“I’m here to talk to your parents about getting married, is that okay?”

“No,” Raleigh spat, horrified. “You don’t like _bacon_.”

Patrick stifled a laugh while Elise drew back in surprise. Charlie leaned over and kissed Raleigh’s cheek, slipping Snow a triangle of toast as he whispered to Raleigh. “Play nice with Elise, munchkin. She’s trying to help Daddy and me, okay?” Raleigh tossed him a skeptical look, and Charlie huffed out a laugh and continued, “Not liking bacon isn’t a fatal flaw.”

“Yes. It is.” Raleigh promised even as he shrugged and acquiesced.

“Sorry,” Patrick offered up when Charlie met his eyes. “He’s a bacon connoisseur.”

Elise cleared her throat and shook her head with an easy smile returning to her face. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Hardly the first time I’ve been disliked by children.” They both paused and shared a glance at that, and Elise colored and waved a dismissive hand with an uneasy smile. “That’s…I mean…I’m really good at my job.”

“Okay,” Patrick laughed. “That’s really all we ask.” He reached across the table and took Charlie’s hand, and Charlie smiled at him softly and took a sip of his tea as he raised his eyebrows at Elise.

“Right. Have you decided when you want to get married?”

“Has to be off-season so that Bailey can come,” Charlie pointed out. “That leaves mid-May to early August. Of next year, obviously. We’re too busy this year, and it’s too soon in any case.”

Elise nodded and jotted down notes in a little notebook that Charlie hadn’t even known she’d had. “Any idea where?”

Charlie and Patrick glanced at each other and sighed, realizing they’d be going back to the UK to get married unless they wanted to wrangle their whole families somewhere else. “New York,” Raleigh stated offhandedly. Their eyes met again while Elise looked up and between them.

Charlie nodded while Patrick laughed, “New York, then. City.”

“I’m impressed on how in-sync the pair of you are,” Elise complimented.

Patrick shook his head, laughing as his eyes met Charlie’s across the table with a bright smile and an impish gleam in his eye. “That’s because we haven’t gotten to the hard part yet. Charlie’s out of control with decorating.”

“Oh my God, don’t even start, Patty!” Patrick and Raleigh both laughed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The house in Hollywood is based on an actual artisan house in the Hollywood Hills called Artemesia, which you can google search and look at. 
> 
> And I forgot what I was going to add in these comments because I've had a mind-numbing headache all day, and I'm going to go die now. Happy soon-to-be Friday. I might be alive tomorrow...maybe not, though.


	54. "Look for Me" by Chipmunk ft. Talay Riley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raleigh comes to some realizations (also fluffy fluff)

**Transcript of Charlie Beck on TMZ**

**TMZ:** Charlie! Charlie! Is it true you’re still living with you best friend and his son?

**Charlie:** ( _laughs_ ) I’m like a live-in nanny…manny? I don’t know.

**TMZ:** Do you have anything to say about Elena Valence’s implications that your breakup was because you pressured her into sex?

**Charlie:** Elena is entitled to feel however she wants to considering the way we ended things, but that doesn’t mean it’s true.

**TMZ:** What do you have to say about your father’s affair with your former costar, Sienna Mortimer?

**Charlie:** ( _stops and turns_ ) He’s always been a dog.

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** When are you home?

**Charlie:** When do you need me to be home?

**Charlie:** We’re running the last scene today. 30min more maybe

**Patrick:** That’s fine. Munchkin has a table read tomorrow same time as mine

**Patrick:** And he wants to go to Milk for dessert

**Charlie:** Sadie can take him. I have filming for most of the day

**Patrick:** You should grab burger for dinner on your way home…:D

**Charlie:** Omfg seriously?

**Patrick:** You’re right. We’ll just go out and food truck it.

**Charlie:** So not what I meant -_-

 

**Mikala Hina (@IslandKalaHina)**

@CharlieBeck how do you do these stunts without breaking your leg???

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@IslandKalaHina ppprrrraaaaccccttttiiiiiccccceeee :P

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Harry:** The cast list for your kid’s movie gets released next week

**Harry:** I need you both seen out with Charlie

**Harry:** Fyi we still can’t confirm until after you host the finale

**Patrick:** No problem

**Patrick:** Thank you for everything

**Harry:** We’re not done yet.

**Patrick:** I wanted to talk to you about that

**Patrick:** For Raleigh…

**Harry:** Maybe you should call me

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck & munchkin are running me ragged…why roller-skating at Venice Beach?

 

**Charlie Beck gay?**

Charlie Beck’s best friend and The Daiki Company CEO, Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, confirmed pictures circulating the web of Beck and Petrov kissing are real. Petrov laughed and said, “Why _wouldn’t_ those be real? I mean, Chaz and I were close.” Reps of the actor have refused to comment, and it’s still uncertain whether or not the pictures equated a more personal relationship between the pair than simply a platonic friendship. Beck’s sexuality, however, has been in question for years.

* * *

The crowd of paparazzi that had circled Patrick’s brand new Porsche Cayenne Turbo had been out of control in a way that he hadn’t at all experienced in London unless he went to a premiere. He’d half expected the drama since Harry had told him in no few words that their lives and public images would be micromanaged in the extreme until he could arrange for a full fledged coming out instead of a noncommittal glass closet that appeased the studio, Charlie’s management, and the pair of them for at least the time being.

Patrick peered back at Raleigh who munched happily on celery sticks and peanut butter with a pair of electric blue Ray-Bans, a Marc Jacobs jungle-print tank top, and a pair of Ralph Lauren cargo pants. Naturally, it had been Raleigh who’d woken up with Charlie early in the morning, gotten himself breakfast, and had breakfast with him on the porch balcony before he’d left for filming. He looked decidedly more put together than Patrick who’d pulled on a pair of Charlie’s ripped up Saint Laurent skinny jeans and a Givenchy sleeveless t-shirt.

Of the two of them, Raleigh seemed considerably less shaken by being mobbed than Patrick did. He peered up at Patrick questioningly.

“You okay?”

“Um-hm,” Raleigh hummed happily, peering ou the window. “We see papa now?”

“Yeah, munchkin,” Patrick laughed, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling on his Fendi baseball cap. “We’ll go see papa now.”

Walking through a film studio was as pedestrian for Patrick as going grocery shopping in the wee hours of the morning with Charlie, but Raleigh seemed fascinated by everything, peering around doors and into rooms, waving to crew members on smoke breaks and cast members in everything from form-fitting black leather to petticoats and corsets with a cheerful obliviousness that Patrick wished life wouldn’t wear out of him no matter how unlikely that was.

_Light Echo_ , Patrick had been told, was shooting in studio four designed specifically for loads and loads of special effects and action that would need a green screen. He only vaguely remembered the layout of the studio from when Patrick had filmed part of _Hush, Hush_ on a sound stage, but Salem had kindly hacked both of their phones and sent Patrick a live up-to-date ping of Charlie’s location in the studio, and Patrick had sent him a thank you instead of a running commentary about personal boundaries that Salem would willfully ignore.

When they reached the door to the studio, Raleigh raced ahead of him, slipping passed the guard while Patrick laughed and shook his head, showing his ID to the man who only waved him through with a bemused expression.

Raleigh stood by the inner door waiting for them to finish the scene and be let in, practically vibrating with loosely bridled excitement. Patrick smiled at the man by the door and tapped Raleigh on the shoulder, letting the boy settle back against Patrick’s legs. The light flicked to green, and the guy manning the door opened it with a smile while Patrick released his hold on Raleigh and allowed him to run into the stage while Patrick followed behind at a more leisurely pace.

“Papa!” He heard Raleigh shriek from up ahead and could only just see through the throng of crewmembers as Charlie lifted the toddler up into the air with the kid giggled.

He moved through the crowd to the periphery of the green screen stage where Mikala Hina stood in a motion capture suit watching Charlie and Raleigh with a bemused expression. Nicya Monoya, the half-Hispanic half-Lebanese actress that Charlie had spoken of highly since his first table read with the woman, stood off to the edge of the set talking with a man that Patrick identified just on sight as the director. A number of extras, some in suits like Mikala’s, some in uniforms, and some in clothes not unlike Nicya in paramilitary, heavy weight ragged gear.

Charlie, in a pale gray flight suit, bizarre eye contacts, with a helmet on the ground by his feet, had Raleigh settled on his hips while Rianne Ziradana in a form-fitting black suit covered in a truly impressive array of weapons and her dark hair pulled up in a high ponytail that fell to the small of her back with a single metallic purple plait and truly out of this world makeup of dark and midnight and a beautiful, futuristic design pattern that looked a little like a jeweled explosion that started at her temple and fizzled out in a dazzling ebony array over her cheek and half her forehead.

Starred galaxy colored eyes met Patrick’s, and Charlie grinned at him and nodded as he set Raleigh down on his feet and hopped off the makeshit spaceship set and sauntered over to Patrick. Raleigh, unperturbed, clambered up into the pilot’s seat while Mikala watched over him, more than a little amused by the boy’s antics, and the director’s eyes focused on Raleigh intently even as he continued to explain something to Nicya.

“Ya done then?” Patrick asked, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s lips as he came over.

Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Nicya’s a slave driver. She keeps stopping and restarting and repeating the same line over and over again. Bit of a perfectionist that puts even _me_ to shame. It would be fine, ordinarily, but I’m kind of tired of today. I was only supposed to be here half a day.”

Patrick grinned and shook his head, “So…”

“So…we’re doing one more take and then even Hugo says we’re done with this scene,” Charlie’s eyebrows rose dramatically, and he sighed before grinning. “How’d Raleigh’s table read go?”

“You’re asking that now?” Patrick inquired, watching the director gesture for everyone to get back into place.

Charlie groaned, “Am I being paged?”

“A little, yeah.” Patrick said, scooping up Raleigh as he ran over to them.

“Mr. Reison, director man, says you have to go act now, papa. Daddy and I watch, yes?” Raleigh blinked up at Charlie innocently.

Charlie laughed and nodded, pressing a kiss to Raleigh’s forehead and then one to Patrick’s lips as he walked backwards towards the set. “Half an hour and then we’ll get lunch. Fingers crossed. I promise.”

“Go!” Patrick waved him off.

Laughing, Charlie turned and hopped up onto set, high-fiving Rianne as he walked off-screen and into the hallway beyond. Kala watched him go, shaking his head and nudging Rianne with his elbow at Charlie’s antics; the woman’s only response to their shared commiseration was an exaggerated eyeroll and a dismissive wave of her hand as Kala tugged her towards him and her hands went behind her back while Nicya stood off to the side to watch them with a half-smile on her face that quickly bled into a look of caution as Hugo Reison, director, called action while Raleigh watched the scene unfold raptly.

* * *

Patrick sat on their blanket striped beach blanket munching on a calarmari taco and intermittently sipping on his water while steadfastly ignoring the paparazzi not far behind taking pictures.

His eyes remained on Charlie standing knee deep in the chilly water of Venice Beach in his black and light blue Quiksilver wetsuit that he’d stripped down to his waist to reveal his toned arms, defined chest and abs, and golden skin glistening with water droplets that had made more than a couple women around Patrick sigh and swoon as their eyes drank him in hungrily. He had his hands on his hips as he straddled his surfboard and instructed a grinning Raleigh.

Their son had been more than a little enthusiastic about learning to surf after he’d watched a surf movie Charlie had done in his mid-teens while on Disney Channel when he’d binged watched a marathon of Charlie Beck’s Disney filmography.

At the studio, Raleigh had changed into a mostly light blue wetsuit that complimented Charlie’s and kept away the cold that he was so easily attuned to as well as pair of wetsuit boots. He stood shakily on the custom-made, child-sized board that Charlie had ordered without much fanfare or discussion, a determined expression on the kid’s face and his hands out to help keep himself balanced on the board as his eyebrows furrowed and gaze locked on Charlie trustingly.

When a particularly strong wave shook Raleigh, he tumbled into the water, and Charlie tensed and grabbed ahold of his board, counting to himself until Raleigh surfaced and threw his hands over the board with a huff. He smiled broadly at Charlie and brushed a few wayward strands of the long hair he refused to cut out of his eyes.

Shaking his head, Patrick walked to the edge of the water and called out to Charlie who turned to look at him questioningly. “Food!”

Charlie nodded and gave him a thumbs up before turning to Raleigh who nodded excitedly and paddled towards the beach under their combined watchful gaze, the surfboard’s leash attached to his ankle towing his board along with him. When he made it to land, Raleigh unhooked the leash and Charlie picked up the board, following Raleigh as he skipped happily to the blanket.

“Wetsuit!” Charlie called out from behind, and Raleigh sighed and stripped off the wetsuit, handing it to a bemused Charlie who hung it over his surfboard to dry. Raleigh collapsed onto the blanket as he tugged up the sleeves of his rashguard and eyed Patrick with wide, pleading eyes. Charlie sat down beside him and tugged on Raleigh’s dripping ponytail. “Don’t beg, munchkin. You’re not a dog.”

Raleigh sighed, “Food. Please.”

Laughing, Patrick nodded and handed him a water bottle. “Drink some water first, please.” With a long sigh, Raleigh took the proffered water and downed half of it in only a few gulps. Charlie’s eyebrows rose as he shared a glance with Patrick.

“What truck was this? A new one?” Charlie asked, catching the wrapped taco Patrick tossed him.

“New one,” Patrick remarked as he traded Raleigh’s water bottle for a chicken taco. “Koji BBQ”

Charlie raised his eyebrows at the name but shrugged, opening his short rib taco and taking a bit of it hesitantly. He eyed Patrick’s taco thoughtfully. “What _is_ that?”

“Calarmari taco,” Patrick chirped cheerfully and offered Charlie a taste. He leaned over and took a bite, chewing with a thoughtful expression before he nodded. “I know, it’s good. But Koji is _weird._ ”

“They all are,” Charlie laughed.

They’d made a game out of Patrick’s abhorrence of cooking and newfound insistence they take advantage of Los Angeles’s fine dining experience in comparison to London’s horrific food industry. Raleigh adored food trucks, and it provided a perfect opportunity to convince him to try new foods before that became uncool. He’d already decided he liked quinoa, kale, and tofu…so they rolled with it and went ate out at a number of food trucks across the Los Angeles area.

Charlie’s eyes locked on Patrick’s and revealed his contained discomfort with the outrageous number of paparazzi swarming the beach some ways away. He knew Charlie well enough, had been around LA with him prior to Raleigh enough to recognize that it was only on the unconcerned toddler’s behalf that he felt so much discomfort. Charlie had grown up in the limelight in three different countries since before he could even properly walk. His picture had been sold to magazines as an exclusive before it had become obvious just how much Samuel Beck had little regard for the sanctity of either his marriages or his children’s privacy.

Unlike Patrick, Charlie managed the paparazzi with the same suave, adept skill that he managed his acting career and with about as much comfort and talent. The last time they’d been in Los Angeles and had gone out with a group, it had been Charlie who’d comforted Patrick when he’d become overwhelmed by all the attention that came with traveling and partying with a pack of A-listers in the entertainment industry capital.

It had also been Charlie who’d talked to Harry and managed to wrangle a restraining order between paparazzi and Raleigh while he was still a child and technically not at an event that had set a precedent in the United States for celebrities and their kids.

Patrick hadn’t even been aware that kind of thing was _possible_ , but Alexander Sullivan had shrugged and told him not to think too much about it.

Shaking off his unease, Charlie slanted his gaze towards Raleigh and asked curiously, “Are we gonna talk about his table read now?”

Patrick laughed and shrugged, “It went well, but he doesn’t like them. That’s plainly obvious. They bore him.”

“So what you’re _actually_ saying is that we should stop actively engaging him by replicating lightsaber battles and tossing M &Ms at his head when we read through lines with him.”

Charlie pouted, and Patrick chuckled as he shook his head. “It’s not a huge deal. He complies – unhappily – but he’s not bratty about anything. He just drinks copious amounts of tea and draws on Anders’s arm when he gets too bored. Although he’s not a huge fan of Iris Landry, his costar. He told her that she needs to emote more when she reads her lines, and Iris told _him_ that it’s only a table read so your son told Anders right there at the tale she clearly wasn’t dedicated enough to ‘her craft.’” The look he slanted Charlie said he knew _exactly_ where their son had learned that particular set of words.

With an unconcerned shrug, Charlie shrugged and leaned back on the beach blanket as he finished his taco and tossed the rolled up tin foil at Patrick who caught it narrowly with a wolfish, triumphant grin. “Child stars these days are so lazy,” came Charlie’s unstuble defense of Raleigh.

Patrick glared at him. “Iris is twenty-six.”

“Doubly so, then. If she’s lazy in table reads her acting’ll be sloppy too.”

“Exactly!” Raleigh – who Patrick had only been half-aware of listening in – exclaimed triumphantly, shooting Patrick a pointed look. “Thank you, papa.”

Charlie shrugged and smirked at Patrick. He rolled his eyes, and Charlie ignored him as he turned Raleigh with a grin. “Should we work on your swimming?”

“No. Surfing,” Raleigh returned evenly, taking the bottle of water Patrick handed him and finished it as he held Charlie’s gaze with a challenging look.

_God, where did I get them from_? Patrick though fondly as he looked between the pair of them, popping a stray calamari into his mouth and rolling his eyes. Raleigh gave Charlie a charming smile first, and Charlie responded with his own endearingly dimpled grin. Raleigh pouted and Charlie copied. They cycled through anger, sadness, fury, disdain, and terror before Raleigh huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, shooting a pointed look to Patrick for intervention. He held up his hands.

Charlie snickered and got to his feet, plucking Raleigh up from the blanket and making a beeline for the water without another word. Patrick shook his head and sipped his water as heads turned at the sound of Raleigh’s delighted squeal. They plunged into the water, and Patrick sat up, his irrational fears rearing their head until Raleigh appeared, eyes narrowing on Charlie when he popped up.

A yelp from behind had Patrick turning around and raising his eyebrows at the sight of Shannon trying to make her way across the sand in a pair of wedges and a skin-tight cocktail dress. Her redhair had been caught short and twisted up in a tiny bun while her Aviators perched on the tip of her nose. Before he could even greet her, Shannon had dropped onto the blanket beside him with a huff, tossing her side bangs out of her eyes and narrowing her shaded gaze on Patrick tossing Raleigh into the waves with a laugh.

“What are you doing here?” Patrick hedged carefully.

Shannon turned her head to glare at him, picking at the remains of Raleigh’s chicken taco with a scowl.

“Okay,” Patrick held up his hands, “correction: how did you find us?”

“Everyone with internet access and a passing interest in pop culture can find you. You’re literally all social media is talking about. According to Tumblr, this is definitive proof you and Charlie are in a relationship.”

“You’d think so,” he replied evenly.

“Twitter disagrees.”

And of course Twitter did. Who’d honestly have thought Tumblr held majority of the rational, analytical fans?

Shannon ran a hand through her bangs and adjusted her glasses, and Charlie glanced over to Patrick, eyebrows rising as he noted Shannon even as he held up a hand in greeting and mumbled to Raleigh. The toddler glanced to shore with only a transient interest in his second cousin’s impromptu appearance. Fair enough, since of the four of them, Raleigh might be the only one who didn’t understand – or obsess – about all the myriad of connotations that came attached to a member of their PR team physically coming to Los Angeles from London without warning.

“Look at you living it up in LA,” Shannon crooked an eyebrow at Patrick who might have flushed three months ago but didn’t do anything but level her with an unconcerned look.

Patrick had everything he could want. His career was lucrative. He was coming out with his best friend and the love of his life who he’d be married to in less than a year. They had Raleigh finding himself and his passion as a toddler and helping him change from the shell-shocked, beaten down child he’d been when he’d come to them into a well-adjusted, healthy, happy toddler. And Patrick wasn’t living in Cork making minimum wage at a job he hated striving to provide for him but unable to give him everything he wanted to. He had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of regardless of whether or not a month of living in LA had turned him into some kind of vapid, posh celebrity.

Tilting her head, Shannon studied him, her smile softening as she shook her head at his expression. “You look good, Patty. You look happy.”

“I am,” Patrick grinned, his gaze moving towards Charlie and Raleigh unconsciously.

“Good,” she said with a smile in her voice that had his attention reluctantly shifting back to her. “I mean London’s not the same without you, and Salem’s a total pill without Charlie there to help Bailey regulate his particular brand of crazy but I’m glad you’re happy. You seem better here, less tense than in London.”

“It helps that I’m not around our imploding families,” Patrick pointed out.

His cousins gave him weekly updates about their family drama. Apparently, Uncle Cody had filed and finalized his divorce from Aunt Irene _and_ gotten custody of his seventeen and fifteen year old daughters, then proceeded to pick up and move them to Brighton when he’d gotten a job offer. His mother and Rory had gone into couple’s therapy to deal with her latent homophobia and issues pertaining to Maggie and himself. Their cousin, David, had gotten released early from prison a couple weeks ago, found the whole family in turmoil, and had requested with is parole officer to have his parole change locations to London while he stayed in Patrick and Charlie’s empty house…they’d evaluated and allowed him to escape from an ‘emotionally volatile’ situation that ‘placed his rehabilitation at risk.’ Charlie had asked if David would be acceptable to eventually come to work as Raleigh’s guardian and/or bodyguard for when they couldn’t be on set with him due to prior commitments – David and Patrick had _both_ cried at the unexpected request. Uncle Rowan, Kelly, and their two daughters had fled back to England while Maggie had apparently gotten a loan and started up her own tabloid firm.

No one quite knew how to feel about that.

Things seemed to have calmed down in London, but Patrick knew they’d never really be _calm_. He was grateful to have removed himself and his family from the crosshairs of excess drama they absolutely didn’t need.

“Why are you here again?” Patrick inquired archly.

Shannon grinned, “With you two going to Atlanta this weekend to host the finale premiere and the announcement about Raleigh going out tomorrow, Harry wanted me to be here to help smoothe things over and to have someone here you trust to watch Raleigh.”

He felt tears well in his eyes as he reached out and pulled his cousin into a one-armed hug of thanks, his eyes falling on Charlie laughing as Raleigh scrambled to try and stand up on his shoulders with a bright grin, unable to grasp when this had become his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so their (official) coming out begins. I feel much better today, which naturally means I've been binge reading the Others series instead of doing any of my work for university...you know, whatever. 
> 
> Raleigh's swimming lessons are so much nicer than mine. My mom tossed me in the pool when I tried to manipulate my instructor to playing nice by crying and saying I was afraid. I'm not sure what life lesson that taught me, but I can swim so clearly I learned something.
> 
> All these food trucks are real and really in California, because I'm as much as stickler for food research as I was about all this surfing crap. Also, I find it hard to believe that they don't make a lot of surfing equipment for toddlers. Someone somewhere makes the shit, and regardless of this story being finished I am going to find it.
> 
> Also, have a good Friday everyone!


	55. "Made in the USA" by Demi Lovato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Charlie talk parenting...or something of that nature

**Actor names his son after best friend**

Irishborn actor, Patrick Gallagher, has been making waves since moving from London to LA with his best friend and longtime roommate and costar, Charlie Beck. Despite years of insistence that they’re not a couple, the actor’s young son’s name seems to suggest otherwise. The confirmed cast-list for highly anticipated, star-studded family drama film, _Family Affair_ , directed by Anders Jarsson and written by Miles J. Tane included Gallagher’s son listed as Raleigh Kylo Beck according to the official paperwork. When asked about his son’s unorthodox name while on break shooting for dystopian film, _Parallel_ , in Hollywood, Gallagher only laughed and said, “I asked him what he wanted to be called. He gave me an answer; I wasn’t about to argue.” Beck’s only response to questions and allegations to a having a romantic relationship was a comment on the toddler’s middle name saying, “[Patrick] lets [Raleigh] decide to name himself after his favorite _Star Wars_ character and then just shrugs like that’s not going to come back to bite him in the ass in ten years. This is why adults pick their kids names…although that’s probably a bad example.” Whether or not Gallagher’s son taking the name of his father’s best friend is a sign of a deeper relationship between the two notable actors, Beck seems content to be a part of the toddler’s life being pictured teaching the four-year-old to surf at Venice Beach after filming just the day before. And I for one can’t wait to see more of these cute little interactions.

 

**Text message to Salem**

**Charlie:** Your godson’s about to vibrate out of his seat in excitement

**Salem:** Oooh going somewhere exciting?

**Charlie:** …Atlanta?

**Salem:** …that’s not exciting.

**Charlie:** Your mother’s our flight attendant.

**Salem:** See THAT’S the kind of information you should start out with.

 

**Sienna Mortimer (@SightsOnSienna)**

Reunion with the crew @Mc_QueenHolly @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ @OfficiallyEvelyn @Taylor_Davis @DexterCarroll @MahonOftheStars @PenneyDear @ScoutCinema @notthecountry

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

My favourite litte man returns #AllHailAtlanta #MyFavoriteGodchild #AndHeIsDefMine

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@notthecountry fight me (ง'̀-'́)ง

 

**Mina Wright (@MinaCWTV)**

Ahhhh! In studio with the @cw_ethrl cast for the series finale premiere

 

**Shannon Gallagher (@shanabanana98)**

It’s ridiculously hot in Atlanta for may @rosieposie lied to me

 

**Rosie Ireland (@rosieposie)**

@shanabanana98 but did I actually? Maybe u just didn’t listen… #seemsplausible

 

**namethestarchatrick**

Went down to meet the cast outside of the CNN Center…my babies arrived together

#...:D #glass closet #chatrick

**thisdarlingirishman**

Stop spreading shit. Patrick has a child to worry about. Stop being a disgusting fucking liar!!!!!!!

#chatrick shippers are fucking gross #it’s just a ship #these are real people whose lives your fucking with

**infochatrick**

Could you maybe relax please? Yeah…they’re real people…real people living together and raising a kid together and reportedly wearing Tiffany engagement rings the other one bought. But yeah, ok, we’re spreading bullshit

**youwerecoveredinblood**

And The Immacutely Straight Charlie Beck has confirmed pictures kissing openly gay Salem Kimura-Petrov…

**namethestarschatrick**

Whoop there it is ^^^

#but yes shippers are fucking with lives

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Thanks for the amazing reception to the city. It’s been lovely to meet you all :3

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Apparently Raleigh’s new favorite thing in the world is @ChickfilA #peachmilkshake #ftw

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ me and @Mc_QueenHolly totally did good things for that boy

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

@notthecountry I’ve got Starbucks to celebrate the pride of a job well done

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@notthecountry @Mc_QueenHolly the kid enjoys eating kale chips & frozen grapes. Stop corrupting him!!!!!! #heathen

 

**Text message from Harry**

**Shannon:** I’ve got this under control

**Harry:** I’m sure. I’m just double checking.

**Harry:** You’ve run through everything with Charlie and Pat?

**Shannon:** Yes Harry.

**Harry:** You’ve cleared everything with Li Min? Finalised it?

**Shannon:** Yes Harry.

**Harry:** You’ve approved the particular questions from the interviewer?

**Shannon:** Yes Harry.

**Harry:** Don’t be petulant.

**Harry:** I’m just making sure.

**Harry:** I need everything sorted and handled.

**Shannon:** Don’t you trust me?

**Harry:** Rosie says I’m a control freak.

**Shannon:** Rosie’s not wrong.

**Harry:** Text me the interviewers question cards.

* * *

In a sheer white Helmut Lang poet blouse, a red Saint Laurent voile scarf, a pair of black skinny jeans, and Armani leather ankle boots, Charlie lounged on the sofa with an expression that relayed only mild interest. His fingers, displaying a myriad of rings including his engagement ring, laced together and holding onto his crossed leg as his sapphire eyes flitted from the screen to the flirtatious young interviewer to Patrick.

His fiancé stood at the buffet table beside a prattling Raleigh and tense Shannon, sipping coffee genially while his eyes darting back and forth between Charlie and the woman oscillating from bemused to irritation and back again. Patrick who looked absolutely delectable and had allowed Charlie to compliment their color pallettes without considerable argument in a red flannel shirt, Saint Laurent sleeveless motorcycle leather vest, a pair of ripped white skinny jeans tucked into Rick Owens sneakerboots and with a white beanie perched on his head. He’d pulled on an array of Charlie’s necklaces including Charlie’s Tiffany’s key necklace.

Sadie hesitated on the very edge of the sound stage before clearing her throat and rolling back her shoulders and crossing over to them, her hand clenched around the cup of bubble tea she’d dug up from God only knew where.

“Chaz.” Sadie said nervously, ignoring the cool look that the hostess tossed at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and giving Charlie a warm, inviting, lusty smile that neither tempted him nor particularly endeared him to her.

He focused on Sadie.

“Sadie.” Charlie greeted, lips curving up in a warm smile as he took the tea she extended towards him. “You found me bubble tea?”

“I found your poison, yes.”

“Raleigh likes it,” Charlie pouted out.

“Raleigh likes yoga, kale, and chickpea salad. Raleigh’s not a valid judge of character when it comes to food and beverage choices.” Sadie scoffed while Hollis leaned against Dexter and laughed in agreement. Charlie crooked an eyebrow, and Sadie crossed her arms over her chest in defense, “What child drinks Yorkshire Tea and eats blueberry scones with Greek yogurt for breakfast? I’m horrified. What have you done to him?”

Charlie tapped his fingers on his knee, eyes automatically darting to the cheeky four year old who’d propped himself on top of a box to sit cross-legged as he chatted in broken Mandarin Chinese to Li Min as he munched on a Greek yogurt and granola snack. Stoic Li Min seemed absolutely enchanted by whatever he was trying to express in Mandarin, brows furrowed and hand tugging at one of the curls falling from beneath his Los Angeles King’s cap thoughtfully. Patrick took a sip of his coffee and shared a bemused look with Evelyn and Sienna as the former murmured quietly to him.

Both Patrick and Charlie hated Greek yogurt, and, frankly, he couldn’t quite imagine Kelsie Klein being the type to buy it. Raleigh had come across it when his table read had been catered, and he fallen in love with with the sour-flavored yogurt. Their next grocery run, Raleigh had abandoned them – giving the pair a collective heart attack when he’d run off – and returned to a scolding that had left him in tears and an armful of Chobani Greek Yogurt. Through blubbering and absolute mortification, Raleigh had apologized in one breath and timidly requested granola in the other.

They’d been so amused by the whole thing when they’d cooled down that they’d allowed it and watched in fascination as Raleigh overlooked their cache of junk food to snack on frozen berries and granola with yogurt. Patrick had been absolutely heartbroken when Raleigh had chosen un-buttered, organic popcorn over Orville’s movie theater butter that practically oozed calories; Charlie had simply been appalled.

“Not my fault. Kale is disgusting.”

“You eat Spinach by the bucket-load.”

Charlie scowled at her, “That’s not even the same thing.” Sadie huffed and rolled her eyes as Charlie beamed up at her pointedly and in a way that came across as decidedly fake. “Do you have something you need to tell me?”

Sadie narrowed her eyes at him before pulling out her work tablet and stylus, thumbing through it until she stopped and cleared her throat. “David’s flying into New York tomorrow from Ireland since he got cleared for work in the States from his parole officer. There’s some extenuating circumstance shit, but that’s his business…so Avery’s handling it.” Charlie nodded, and Sadie pursed her lips and carried on. “You and Patrick have that appointment with his realtor tomorrow in New York. He’s already started getting Patrick’s apartment up for sale and says he has several ready to show the pair of you tomorrow if you’re up for it. Avery and I confirmed. Your flight leaves at ten from Hartsfield-Jackson, so you’ll have to book it out of here after, but we’ve got your ride confirmed and all of your bags are packed and ready to go.”

Charlie smiled up at her brightly, schmoozing. “You’re a godsent.”

“Yes, I fucking am. You know what else?” Sadie snapped at him furiously, and Charlie raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to go on. “I have a car scheduled to pick you up from LaGuardia Airport. I booked your hotel room at the Plaza. I communicated with the scheduling people from _three_ different films. _And_ dealt with David in Ireland. _And_ navigated the minefield of your families. _And_ booked your flight back to Los Angeles. I am a fucking angel. I should leave you out in the cold. Starving.”

“You wouldn’t do that to Raleigh,” Charlie teased. “He’d be sad.”

“Fuck you very much,” Sadie rolled her eyes. “Salem wants to know if you’re going to make a stop at the Olympics to see Bailey play.”

“Yeah, of course, I should be able to get into the final.”

“Assuming England _goes_ to the final,” Mahon added as he sauntered up and sat down on the other side of Dexter.

Charlie offered him a droll look. “Arthur Bailey is playing for England. They’re going to the final.”

That seemed to settle the argument as the producer called for everyone to get back in their places. Sadie plucked Charlie’s bubble tea out of his hand, smirking as he made a small, wounded noise in protest, watching her walk towards Li Min and Raleigh with a sad, puppy-dog expression. Shannon leaned on the wall beside Li Min with an expectant look on her face as everyone congregated back on the stage together slowly but surely.

Israel appeared at the last second, bursting through the doors with an array of harassed, winded makeup artists and hair stylists trailing behind hir. Hir hair fell around her face in a mess of wild curls held back by the grace of a red, white, and blue bandana. And unlike hir usual brand of paramilitary fashion, Israel had arrived in a pair of fitted black jeans tucked into severe knee-high studded leather boots with chains dangling off them and an oversized burgundy jumper that most likely belonged to Jazz.

“If I could just…” the makeup artist started on to have her hand slapped away as Israel pierced her with a glare.

“If I wanted your help, I wouldn’t have run away. Thanks.” Israel snapped shortly. Ze huffed and crossed hir arms over hir chest and glared menacingly at Li Min who seemed neither affronted nor cowed by the harsh look. “Well, I’m fucking here.”

“Good,” Li Min shrugged.

The stage for this whole endeavor seemed a mix of the CW’s usual MO of casual, young, chic with its multi-levels, intimate lighting, and multicolored sofas in an array of sofa breeds. Intentionally mismatched. Stylishly so.

As they settled down, they shifted their seating arrangement under the watchful eye of Li Min and the show’s producer who bit his lip uncertainly and reluctantly allowed them all to pick their own seating so they’d remain relaxed and open in the face of an interspersed two hour long filming process that had to be reduced and repackaged in time for it to air between commercial breaks the next week.

Hollis had switched to sit cross-legged on a deep purple velvetine sofa between Mahon and Dexter, the former who kept picking at his microphone while the latter had stolen Hollis’s mobile phone to send text messages to her boyfriend as Hollis leaned into him and watched, giggling. Sienna had seated herself in the loveseat beside Evelyn, both of them had their knees drawn up and their heads bowed together as they whispered quietly and gesticulated in short, muted bursts. Patrick came over to sit beside Charlie, throwing his legs over his lap with an impish grin.

His eyes darted swiftly to the hostess who’d settled in her armchair, watching them attentively, and a mischievous look entered into his eyes as he sat up quickly and pressed a kiss Charlie’s cheek before leaning back with a smirk. Charlie rolled his eyes at Patrick, and his fiancé’s only response was to pass him a pudding cup and plastic spoon with a bright smile and a cheeky wink that begged for Charlie to release whatever feelings he had in regards to Patrick’s unsubtle taunts.

_I’m marrying a child._

Charlie swatted him gently even as he half smiled and spooned some chocolate pudding into his mouth. Patrick rolled his eyes, lips quirking up in the slightest semblance of a smile as the interviewer, Diana, cleared her throat, suddenly extremely uncomfortable as her back straightened and she nodded to her producer.

The room went quiet as the producer counted down, and Charlie tucked a strand of his blond hair behind his ear and raised his eyebrow as he forced himself to relax into the sofa cushions. In the next moment, Diana’s discomfort had been carefully hidden away behind a bright smile and the fold of her hands in her lap. She tossed her hair out of her face, tongue flicking out to wet her lips as she began altogether too jovially.

“And we’re back with the cast of _Ethereal_ on the premiere of the series finale. It’s been five years of good times, but now it’s finally come to an end. This season’s been full of great plot twists, interesting relationships, and surprising guest stars! Including the season favorite and a cast favorite, as I understand. Let’s take a look.” Diana said. The producer called cut.

Charlie turned to Patrick. “What clip are they playing?” Patrick shrugged.

“Do you morons not read the briefings?” Evelyn called across the room.

“Are they important?” Patrick returned evenly for Charlie who grinned and ate another spoonful of pudding.

“Raleigh, babes,” Hollis called out as she wrapped her arms around both Mahon and Dexter’s necks. “It’s that scene of Raleigh as the Will o’the Wisp that we filmed in Wistman’s Wood up in Devon. You know, the one you two had to sign off on them using?”

Patrick frowned and turned to Charlie. Charlie pursed his lips as he met Patrick’s eyes and shrugged. “I definitely don’t remember that, but then, I guess that’s what Harry’s for, isn’t it.”

“Quiet on set!” The producer called out, and Charlie pressed his lips together and met Patrick’s eyes, resting a hand on Patrick’s shins and squeezing lightly. Patrick gave him a wide, cheesy smile as the producer counted down.

Diana cleared her throat and nodded as she pasted on a smile so fake that it seemed downright breakable. Patrick’s eyebrows rose as a self-satisfied smile flickered across his face; Charlie rolled his eyes and beamed, dimples popping out in a way that had always had every interviewer, host, pap, or casting director falling at his feet. Patrick rolled his eyes in exasperation, and Charlie winked at him, quickly and discreetly, before turning back towards Diana, already knowing where this line of questioning would be heading.

“That was Raleigh…Beck. Your son, right, Patrick?” Patrick nodded dutifully, and Diana cleared her throat and tugged on the hem of her dress. “How was it working with him onset?”

“Great,” Patrick shrugged, “Raleigh’s ridiculously passionate about acting, get’s very into it all. He ran that scene about two dozen times, and, I mean, Anders directed it but it was Raleigh who kept asking to do it over again to try out different ways of speaking and playing the character. Get’s an absolute thrill out of pretending to be someone else, but, then, I guess we all do.”

“Anders Jarsson is directing the movie he’s going to begin filming in mid-May, isn’t he?”

Patrick nodded while Charlie laughed, “That’s for the best. He gets along very well with Anders, and Anders lets him run a bit wild and do as he does, really. Couldn’t ask for anyone better to direct his first movie. I’m glad they already have repertoire.”

“You two are best friends,” Diana prompted. “He took _your_ last name. Raising him together?”

“This is what happens when you try to allow children to make their own decisions. I say: ‘Do you want to change your surname?’ And Raleigh looks at me and asks, ‘Can I be a Beck?’ And after all the choices he _hasn’t_ been allowed to make, I wasn’t about to say no.”

“You _never_ say no,” Charlie remarked cheerfully, patting Patrick’s legs with a bemused smile. He could feel all eyes on him but he distinctly remembered Harry’s insistence that they kept this interview as natural as possible, that they play off each other. Following instinct he’d been asked to quash for months, Charlie played off Patrick the way he usually did. “This why he also named himself after a crazed _Star Wars_ character who murdered his own father to get in with a psychotic Sith lord. And you _allowed_ that! I know you didn’t tell me because you knew that I would yell at you!”

Patrick nodded. Diana cleared her throat and tried to get their attention back towards her to no avail.

“Like you’re doing now?” Patrick teased him, leaning forward to prod at his cheek with a sweet smile. “Does it matter? His name was fairly terrible as it was. God, what was she thinking? Raleigh’s a perfectly acceptable name. As adorable as he is, but his middle name was absolutely fugly. Don’t lie and pretend that you liked it.”

“I like Kylo less.”

“Now _that’s_ a lie,” Patrick pointed at him and laughed cheerfully.

“No way!” Hollis exclaimed, leaning around Mahon to point at Patrick and Charlie. They met his eyes with a shocked look of sheer and unadulterated disbelief. “I totally would’ve expected _Patrick_ to be the serious parent. How did this happen?”

Patrick gaped at her while Charlie threw back his head and cackled.

Pulling back his leg, Patrick kicked him in the thigh in pure retaliation, but Charlie didn’t relent in the slightest.

“Patrick’s always the one who’s like ‘no, he’s just a kid, let him learn!’ And I’m very much of the belief that he’s four years old! He has one job. Well,” Charlie turned to look at Patrick, eyebrows raised in an expression that mirrored his own. He turned back to the rest of the cast and beamed innocently, shrugging. “Maybe not _just_ one, but he needs to do what he’s told. This is not a debate. This is not a democracy. This is a dictatorship. When he reaches double digits, he can start talking back to us, but until then, we talk, he listens.”

“Whoa,” Dexter drawled, holding up his hands. “I want no part in your marital argument.”

Charlie laughed while Patrick rolled his eyes and shook his head as he half-smiled. “What was the original question?”

Diana opened her mouth to respond, but Charlie cut her off, much to Patrick’s obvious delight. It didn’t seem like Patrick, for all his mischief, had quite gotten over Diana’s outright flirting.

“Co-parenting.”

“Right,” Patrick nodded and sat up to wrap an arm around Charlie’s neck, resting his chin on Charlie’s shoulder as he smiled cheekily. He turned his head to lock eyes with Diana as he shrugged half-heartedly. “I trust Charlie absolutely, and I’m still learning this parenting thing. We’re learning it together, I suppose. He’s a huge part of my life and a huge part of Raleigh’s. And I need all the help I can get. I don’t really understand why everybody needs to know what’s going on in our personal lives. We’re handling it as best we can, and we’re handling it together because that’s what we do. We’re best mates. We’re partners in crime. We own property together. It’s a bit easier raising a child with someone rather than going at it alone, I suppose.”

Charlie nodded sagely, “I knew you were only using me for childcare.”

“That’s it then,” Patrick grinned and chuckled. They met eyes and devolved into laughter. Scooting closer, Patrick wrapped his arms around Charlie and pressed his forehead to Charlie temple as Charlie wrapped his arms around Patrick’s upturned knees and played with the ring on his left middle finger absently.

Diana laced her fingers together over her knee, fingers playing the fabric of her tights. Neon pink tights. _What an interesting fashion choice…_ “So it’s going well then? This bachelor’s attempt at co-parenting?”

The pair of them exchanged a long, bemused look between two people who knew a secret the rest of the world didn’t…but they would soon if all things went right. It wouldn’t be long after this interview, that the rest of their connection to the studio and the show would be at an end and their obligations to keep their mouths shut.

Patrick scratched his nose and shook his head with a wry smile. “For now. I mean we haven’t really started yet.”

“Yeah,” Charlie grimaced, “Raleigh starts filming next week. Patrick starts the week after that. I film on location starting next week as well.”

“Guatemala? Death Valley National Park? Siberia?” Patrick tossed out to Charlie questioningly.

“All of the above!” Charlie called out, laughing. “You’re not going to come visit me in Siberia, are you?”

“No,” Patrick assured him, “but the munchkin and I might spend a weekend in Death Valley with you or Guatemala if we have time.”

“Aw, aren’t you the sweetest.” Charlie intoned sarcastically.

Patrick offered him an impish smile. “Thanks, Chazza. I try.” He patted Charlie’s hand gently and tapped his finger against Charlie’s engagement ring. Charlie slanted a look towards him accompanied by a soft, slow smile, the one he knew half the Internet associated with his adoration and complete enchantment with everything that Patrick was, did, and said. The look that told everyone with eyes how completely devoted and enthralled he was with the man he intended to marry. The look that communicated effectively how absolutely wrapped around his fiancé’s finger he actually was. Totally whipped and it didn’t even bother him in the slightest.

Patrick reached up with the arm wrapped around his shoulders to flick his cheek gently and offered him a loving, small smile not at all meant for the cameras or PR or to sell a narrative that shouldn’t have to exist in the first place at all. Charlie could see the desire to kiss him lurking in the depths of Patrick’s eyes as he flirted with the pros and cons of fucking their rigidly scheduled coming out and announcing everything by planting one on him in studio…not that _that_ would ever make the editing cuts.

Charlie shook his head minutely, and Patrick sighed.

Turning to Diana with a smile and sparing a single smug glance for a glowering Israel, Patrick stated, “Right, so…”

Diana cleared her throat and faked her way through another wane smile as she turned back to the cameras. “Stay tuned, when we return we’ll be talking to Charlie Beck and the show’s screenwriter and creator, Alexandra Israel, about the decisions that played into _Ethereal_ ’s ending. We’ll be right back.” When the producer yelled cut, Diana rose on shaky legs and glanced over at Patrick timidly, flinching when he met her gaze coldly and with an unconcealed hostility.

Charlie elbowed him lightly, and Patrick cleared his throat and tugged on his leather vest before his shock-and-awe gaze followed the path of the rest of the cast’s to lock on Israel as ze made hir way onto the set.

“Alexandra, huh?” Patrick waggled his eyebrows, “Who would have guessed.”

“I did,” Hollis put her hand up while Sienna laughed and agreed as Dexter nodded.

Israel made hir way over to Patrick and slapped the back of his head as ze plopped down on the arm of the sofa beside him. “Shut up, Patty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize I temporarily forgot you all on my urban fantasy binge. I will be posting another chapter...whenever I wake up from my post binge nap.


	56. "Better When I'm Dancing" by Meghan Trainor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie proves he's a wolf while apartment hunting, and David arrives from Ireland

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Alexandra though……………

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@StPatty_ I will actually kill you

 

**Evelyn Merritt (@OfficiallyEvelyn)**

Saying goodbye is so hard. What am I going to do without Raleigh in my life?

 

**Mahon Orion (@MahonOftheStars)**

@OfficiallyEvelyn @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ the boy needs a Twitter and Insta so we can stalk him

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@MahonOftheStars he’s 4

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ I concur

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ Honestly, same.

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ do it for the kids

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@ArthurBailey you’re not a child

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@StPatty_ that depends on who you ask. @CharlieBeck fine do it so @Salem_Daiki stops ‘managing’ your accounts to see pics

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@ArthurBailey point taken

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@ArthurBailey @Salem_Daiki see anything interesting?

 

**Text message from David**

**David:** Just landed in nyc

**Patrick:** Same here

**Patrick:** We’ll pick u up frm jfk. 15min.

**David:** Kk itll be great 2 c u cuz

**Patrick:** Raleigh and Chaz r excited to meet u

**David:** Yeah?

**Patrick:** Promise cuz.

**Patrick:** Where did u get a phone that has an international card?

**David:** RaRa gave it 2 me. Said its from some Asian computer dude

**Patrick:** How does Salem do this?

**Patrick:** Jfc!

 

**Fans call Elena Valence ‘out of line’ for attack on Charlie Beck!**

Since the tumultuous end to Charlie Beck and Elena Valence’s short-lived, rumored relationship on New Year’s Eve, the Lousiana-born popstar has had nothing but bad things to say about the British heartthrob. Among her implications even included an allegation of the actor pressuring her into having sex, but fans of the actor are calling foul in the face of his stepping up to help best friend and former costar, Patrick Gallagher, raise his four year old son, Raleigh. “It’s an absolute defamation of a good man’s character,” said one passionate fan online. The woman went on to say, “She wants everyone to hate him as much as she clearly does. It’s completely uncalled for and incredibly immature.” Another fan stated, “This is a man who stayed out of trouble for year. Agreed to help his best friend raise a toddler in his early twenties and has gone to great lengths to help protect his other best friend’s boyfriend when he got outed by his _other_ best friend’s sister. I’m not denying something happened between Elena and Charlie that hurt her, but I don’t think it’s him sexually pressuring her and I think whatever it was happened for a very good, very specific reason.” Amidst growing allegations of Charlie Beck’s homosexuality recalling leaked pictures of him kissing Konstantin Kimura-Petrov in 2015, making out with Irial Dorian at a club in July 2016, and jokingly pecking his supermodel sister, Daphne’s, then-boyfriend and singer/songerwriter, Soren Reed, it certaintly seems that there’s more to the story between Elena Valence and Charlie Beck’s falling out than simply a bad breakup.

**Comments:**

**h.m.j.04. commented:** So we’re finally acknowledging Charle Beck is gay then?

**tanya_denali commented:** There’s more sexualities than gay and straight!

**h.m.j.04. commented:** …I know? I was making a point…(also Charlie Beck’s GAY)

**anonymous commented:** And elena valence is blowing smoke up everyone’s asses. She’s just mad he ruined her promo run

**nikkifromnawlins commented:** I think she really loved him and he played her

**guest commented:** Charlie’s gay

**thesandmansam commented:** Yeah but what if she didn’t know she was a beard?

**anonymous commented:** Ok tinhatters ya’ll are being ridiculous. It’s just fucking promo and PR for her new single

**anonymous commented:** Agreed. Just the usual celebrity schtick of pr bullshit

**lovelylila commented:** Nah too much animosity for that…from Elena anyway. Charlie won’t touch this with a ten foot pole.

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Kala:** My sister’s pissed

**Charlie:** Do u know what time it is in new york?

**Kala:** Apparently ur an asshole player who used her for ur own selfish gain

**Charlie:** Guilty? But like it wasn’t actually my idea

**Charlie:** I just went along with it

**Charlie:** I don’t suppose that makes it any better

**Charlie:** Also it’s 3am here.

**Kala:** Just play nicely with her. She’s still hurting after everything

**Charlie:** I just want to come out. Anything beyond that is ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 

**Kala:** Yeah?

**Charlie:** She’s dragging herself into this by continuing to discuss it

**Kala:** Just please for me

**Charlie:** Ffs can I go back to sleep now?

* * *

It had been years since Patrick had gone apartment shopping with Charlie, but he had remembered the experience well enough to have the foresight to hand Raleigh off to David regardless of their mirrored wariness of each other.

Frankly, Patrick had suspected they’d be in for a long day when Charlie had forgone his usual brand of posh threads in exchange for a pair of blue jeans, a Lanvin graphic t-shirt, and lime green UnderArmour trainers. Even Raleigh had paused in eyeing David suspiciously over his eggs benedict and parfait to gape at Charlie in complete and utter surprise.

Their realtor, Mike Hiland, hadn’t known what to say nor remotely understood when Patrick had shown up to the meet with a Smart Water the size of his forearm for Charlie and a coffee for Patrick nearly the size of his head and a harassed expression before they’d even begun. Hiland had helped Patrick find his original apartment in Chelsea and had been the person Patrick had turned to in order to sell the apartment as well. Within a month of the place being put up on market, it had been sold for some ten million dollars, and Charlie had reluctantly agreed to meet Hiland but with the stipulation that they had one day to decide on a place.

It was a bit of a dick move and a blatant no confidence in Hiland.

It was also realistic considering both of their schedules and Raleigh’s especially.

They didn’t _need_ to find an apartment quite this soon, but it would make them both feel better and allow Raleigh more time to get used to the place between now and when they’d make the move to New York when he turned eleven.

Patrick had sipped his coffee and eyed Hiland hesitantly before telling his bluntly. “I hope you’ve got your walking shoes on, Hiland. It’s gonna be a long day, Mikey boy.”

Mike Hiland hadn’t understood but seemed up to the challenge. A New Yorker since birth, Mike had come from a working class Brooklyn family where his father had been a construction worker and his mother had been a cosmetologist. He had a shock of wild, unruly red brown hair, pale brown skin dotted with freckles, and dark green eyes with thick lashes. The man made more money than God, but never appeared anywhere in anything other than a pair of leather shoes, khakis, and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. With the newest Daiki Company mobile phone in his hand – prompting instant endearment from Charlie – Mike had met them outside the Plaza and driven them from apartment to apartment all over the city from Chelsea to East Village to Greenwich to the Upper East Side to Battery Park City.

By the time the three of them had breaked for a lunch at Peacefood Café, a vegan restaurant, that _Raleigh_ had chosen and dragged them to, eating happily while David had picked at a vegan cheese burger with dismay, Patrick had nearly run out of steam. Hiland spent every minute not showing them properties asking them twenty questions and texting his assistant for last minute showings and properties that matched the criteria they needed.

When they pulled up outside of the seven story brick building on a cobblestone street with arched windows and a tree-lined sidewalk in Tribeca, Patrick’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned to Hiland with surprise. Tribeca simply hadn’t made it onto either of their lists of possible neighborhoods, certainly not a few scant blocks from Canal Street and the Holland Tunnel and _especially_ not when Charlie radiated aristocratic snobbishness. But when they veered into an underground tiled garage, Patrick’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher as he slanted a curious look at Charlie.

Charlie who sat beside Patrick, their hands interlaced on Patrick’s thigh and his face carefully inscrutable as he tilted his head and studied the interior of the garage. Patrick squeezed his hand, and Charlie squeezed his hand back but didn’t look at them as the car came to a stop. Hiland cleared his throat and tugged at the hem of his button-down as he nervously got out of the car, and Charlie’s lips quirked as he glanced over to Patrick with amusement in his eyes at Hiland’s discomfort.

“You’re such an asshole,” Patrick murmured.

“This is gonna be good one,” Charlie returned conspiratorially as the door opened and composed his face before Hiland could get a clear read on what he felt about the building and the neighborhood at first glance.

Clearing his throat nervously, Hiland tugged at his shirt and smoothed his hands down the front of it. He stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans and blinked at the pair of them owlishly before pasting on a smile and clearing his throat nervously. Patrick stifled a smile at Charlie’s feigned severly unimpressed look that rattled Hiland even more than he already seemed to be, impossibly so. Wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist, Patrick tugged him against his side in an invented display of mollification as he pressed a kiss to Charlie’s temple. Charlie hooked a finger through Patrick’s belt loop and hummed thoughtfully.

Hiland shifted uneasily and nodded, “Right then, I know Tribeca wasn’t exactly on your list of desired neighborhoods – ”

“Not even a little,” Charlie interrupted with pursed lips and a slanted look towards Patrick that said quite clearly that they’d be playing this act the whole way through.

Patrick nodded and drawled, “Charlie.”

“Don’t start, Patty.”

“Ehm…” Hiland chuckled nervously, rocking back on the balls of his feet while Charlie raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as Patrick faked an exasperated sigh. “I know it’s a bit of a risk, but it’s a nice neighborhood with a lot of places to eat, three blocks from the Hudson River and the Tribeca Dog Run. It’s a thirty-minute train ride from the school Patrick tells me you’ve been looking at for Raleigh and a twenty-minute drive. It’s a historic building with a restored brick façade.”

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. “So it’s pretty.”

Laughing uncomfortably, Hiland wrung his hands together even as he straightened his back and inhaled deeply, trying to regain control from Charlie’s faked petulant temper tantrum.  Patrick and Charlie exchanged a brief, amused glance that spoke to their considerable issues that a therapist would have a field day with. They have entirely too much pent up energy. One would think that spending all their time pretending for one reason or the other to be someone or another would make this kind of behavior unnecessary, but it appeared not to be the case.

_God, I’m so whipped. I can’t believe we’re playing this game with our realtor._

“It’s a little more than pretty. Instead, it’s a building that’s incredibly private with a concierge, valet, and doorman twenty-four hours. The building has storage, a swimming pool, gym, bike room, and children’s playroom only as features of the facility, that’s not even including the actual property.”

“And how much _is_ the actual property?” Patrick inquired archly.

“Fifty million,” Hiland ground out.

Without the slightest hint of deception, Charlie’s mouth fell open in shock while Patrick sputtered, “Is it made of gold?”

“The average price per square foot in Tribeca is upwards of three thousand. That’s…how many square feet is this apartment?” Charlie demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrows.

“About 8500,” Hiland admitted.

“What’s that?” Charlie turned to Patrick, “About six thousand per square foot? _Is_ it made of gold?”

“Maybe we should take a look at it,” Hiland suggested.

Patrick’s eyes darted between the pair of them while Charlie raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “That’s fine, but I want you to understand that just because we _have_ the money to pay for a fifty million dollar Tribeca apartment doesn’t mean I’m willing to. For something that’s double the average price per square foot for the area. Or did you not think I’d research that?” Hiland stuttered and started to speak before Charlie held up a hand with a bright smile and shook his head, “Why don’t you just show us the apartment?”

Patrick’s gaze slid to Charlie with a bemused half-smile.

Hiland nodded and led them up the stairs and into the ground floor of the lobby. At the walked through the warm wood of the ground floor, he pointed at the big windows, pointing out the ordered chaos of the courtyard outside the big windows and the lap pool through a set of double doors. They peeked in on the gym with the adjacent posh locker rooms and steam rooms with the sound of the laughter from the attached playroom filtering in.

Afterwards, Hiland guided them towards a private elevator. He pressed the button and keyed in the code as Charlie typed out a text message on his mobile phone with his lips pursed and a patient look on his face. Patrick leaned against the wall and met Hiland’s worried eyes with a single, encouraging nod that had the realtor relaxing slightly while Charlie shot Patrick an impish smile as he shook his head.

The elevator opened into a luxurious foyer with a set of stairs leading up to the other floors and open to the living room with exposed beams and a high ceiling with the glass railing that showed the second floor of the apartment.

“The elevators open directly into the apartment,” Hiland told them as they walked into the apartment.

Patrick nodded and pressed his lips together in a hard line. “Safety?”

“There’s a private elevator, that’s the one we took that will take you directly up here to the penthouse and a public elevator. Both have an elevator key panel but for added security there are these locking doors so no one can get in even if they manage to replicate your key or find out your code as well as a security alarm in case someone tries to break in.” Hiland informed them.

Patrick nodded and leaned against the light brown wood beam with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched Charlie saunter into the living room, taking in the brightness in the room and the open floor plan between the living room and the kitchen. With its stainless steel appliances and plenty of counter space even with a kitchen island that could sit three people, Charlie ran his fingers over the countertop as Patrick followed him through a little more slowly.

Peering into the library off of the living room, Patrick’s eyes took in the space thoughtfully before following after Charlie, meeting his eyes from where Charlie stood in the narrow hall between the kitchen and hall off the foyer as he peered into the depths of the pantry. He loved the place, and Patrick could tell that without even a single word from his fiancé. Charlie met Patrick’s eyes with pursed lips and stated, “I hate the countertops.”

“That can be fixed.”

Charlie hummed and disappeared down the hall towards the utility room, and Patrick pressed his fingers against the wall of the kitchen as he looked over at Hiland. “What’s behind here?”

“A bedroom.”

“How many others are there?”

“Did I not say? Five bedrooms. Six plus bathrooms.”

They circled back into the foyer as Charlie appeared from the apartment’s bedroom and utility room with a contented, thoughtful expression his face. “We’d have to take out the fifth bedroom. It’s unnecessary and fucks the flow. I hate that.”

Patrick nodded and raised his eyebrows at Charlie, “So you want to see the rest of the apartment, then?”

Hiland blinked, mouth falling open in surprise. “You like it?”

“Not for fifty million dollars,” Charlie remarked with a dimpled smile as he brushed passed the pair of them and trotted up the stairs.

Two ensuite bedrooms with a media room between them and a third across from the master bedroom with three big windows that let in enough light to bathe Charlie in it as he stood starling center in the bedroom, a huge dressing room that might actually fit all of Charlie’s expansive collection of designer clothes that Patrick had taken to sharing.

The third floor of the apartment had a massive entertainment room with floor to ceiling windows with a huge private terrace and a patio as well as a small private and a built-in grill and sink for outdoor entertaining.

Charlie stood at the railing and leaned against it, head cocked, wind blowing his hair, and his eyes focused on Tower One rising in the distance with a soft smile on his face.

A sweet, small grin spread across Patrick’s face as he walked over towards him and slipped his arms around Charlie’s waist, pressing a kiss to his neck. “You love this place.”

“Not for fifty million dollars,” Charlie admitted.

“Never thought I’d see the man who buys thousand pound leather jackets make a fuss about price,” Patrick hummed.

Sighing exhaustedly, Charlie turned around in the circle of Patrick’s arms and looped his arms around Patrick’s neck with a wry smile. His eyes darted to Hiland over Patrick’s shoulders, and his smile turned coy and impishly as he met Patrick’s gaze. “He’s practically getting down on his knees to pray to Jesus that I like this place enough to buy. It’s hysterical.” Patrick rolled his eyes, and Charlie shrugged and pecked Patrick’s lips with a lascivious smile “It’s not about the money. It’s about the fact that it’s not worth fifty million dollars. Just like I don’t buy any of Kanye West’s overpriced Adidas line because it’s overpriced crap, I don’t overpay for anything. Ever.”

“But you like this apartment.”

“But I don’t need this apartment.”

“But _I_ need to never shop for property with you ever again.”

Charlie grinned and laughed happily while Patrick’s eyes raked over his fiancé’s profile watching the sun hit Charlie’s golden skin and wash over him. He couldn’t resist, leaning forward to press a kiss to the underside of Charlie’s jaw, and Charlie’s hands shifted to tighten in Patrick’s hair as he laughed with outright amusement. “I love you,” he said as Patrick pulled back, meeting his eyes levelly. “And I want this apartment…for under forty-five million dollars.”

Patrick met his eyes and chuckled as he nodded, “Ready to play again?”

Charlie beamed brightly.

* * *

“Daddy! Papa!” Raleigh called out, racing from Dancing Crane Café outside the Central Park Zoo while David trailed behind him sipping from a large plastic cup in his hand and chewing on his straw, watching with amusement as Raleigh jumped into Patrick’s arms and cuddled into him. “Uncle Davie took me to see snakes and leopards and bears and the water lions.”

“Sea lions, little love,” David cut in as he nodded at Charlie in greeting as he swallowed uncertainly.

Patrick eyed the pair of them but didn’t cut in.

Raleigh grimaced, “Sea lions smell yucky. And make lots of noise.”

“Completely agree,” Charlie cut in with a broad grin as Raleigh stretched out his arms for him. Patrick handed him over without a fuss as his eyes picked up the paparazzo half-hiding in the distance with some colleagues, snapping pictures of them with a long-range camera. Patrick sighed and turned to Charlie to inform him when he was cut off without heat and while Charlie kept an easy smile on his face and his eyes on Raleigh. “I see them. They can’t put your cousin in the paper, though. I already had Harry deal with it.”

Patrick’s stomach flipped as a warm feeling spread through him and a smile began to grow over his lips. His eyes went to the ground, and he ran a hand through his hair trying to hide his absolutely embarrassing smile, though he could feel David’s eyes on him and his blush deepened. Peeking up through the curtain of his hair, he met Charlie’s warm gaze and soft smile that said he knew exactly what Patrick was feeling but he wasn’t about to call him out on it.

After everything they’d been through together, it still surprised him when Charlie did the littlest things to take care of him and his family. To protect Patrick. Because he loved him. Because he wanted Patrick to be happy. Patrick had never been able to manage a stable, healthy relationship before and could absolutely not believe he’d found someone to love him, protect him, and care for him without reservation and without demanding anything except that same love, care, and respect in return.

“Papa, I’m hungry. We get dinner?” Raleigh asked as he rested his head on the curve between Charlie’s neck and shoulder.

“We can absolutely get dinner. Are we aiming for the Russian Tea Room or simply pizza tonight?” Charlie inquired as he started walking towards the hotel with a single glance between Patrick and David accompanied by a head tilt to let Patrick know where he was headed.

Patrick put his hands in his pockets as he turned to his cousin who he’d barely had a chance to talk to privately between them both passing out after long flights and breakfast with a four year old. And Charlie had gifted him with an opportunity to do so. He glanced at the retreating back of his fiancé as he walked away and chatted with their son, wishing their schedule wasn’t about to be quite so hectic so he could do something special for Charlie, grateful for everything that Chaz had done for him and with him. Grateful that he’d found someone to love him and his son to love so entirely.

“He’s a good one,” David remarked.

“Yeah, he is,” Patrick beamed as he turned to David. “I think he’s the love of my life.”

David grinned and shook his head. “Jesus Christ, Patty, you’re such an absolute sap. Whipped by that boy, you are. But he’s almost as whipped as you are. Almost. You indulge him…in everything I’ve heard.”

“Ra-Ra tell you that?”

“Nah, Brian actually,” David winked at him.

Like all the males in their family, David had the build of an athlete, the complexion of a vampire, and the thick ebony waves and green eyes of the rest of the Gallagher family line. He’d dressed like old school Irish mob since the day he’d graduated from school up until he got sent to prison for beating up a bunch of homophobic minors in gallant defense of Patrick’s virtue.

And as wary as he seemed of Charlie, gaining his dislike for his colorful background and years behind bars, he’d gained Charlie’s regard when he showed up at the airport in a tweed suit, button-up, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses with a tie and a pipe that he actually smoked tobacco from.

“Did Brian also tell you that Adam’s dating some wanker who studies economics?”

David laughed and nodded, “He did.”

“You look good David,” Patrick admitted awkwardly.

His cousin smiled uneasily and shook his head, “Thanks for giving me this job. I can’t imagine it was an easy sell with your boyfriend.”

“Fiancé actually,” Patrick cut in and bumped shoulders with David as they trailed along behind Charlie and Raleigh. Slanting a sideways look at David, Patrick smiled softly at his cousin and shrugged, “And it was probably an easier sell than it was with your parole officer. All _I_ had to do was ask.” David seemed unsure, and Patrick shrugged and waved his hands dismissively. “You, former mobster, are so scared of him, but you shouldn’t be. He likes you because you dress classy and smoke from a pipe like an old school Irishman from the 1940s, and he wants to help you because you’re family and he loves me so he loves you by extension. Also…if he didn’t like you, he would have sent you a one-way ticket back to Ireland if he thought he couldn’t trust you around Raleigh. He’s considerably more protective of him than I am.”

David rocked back on his feet and smiled over at Patrick, shaking his head. “You got a good one there, Patty. That’s all I ever wanted for you and all our cousins and my siblings: to be happy.”

“Now it’s your turn,” Patrick elbowed him lightly, grinning. “And we’ll start by paying you an outrageous salary and letting you live in the carriage house of Charlie’s Los Angeles _compound_ while you cart around a four year old and rub elbow with the biggest names in the business.”

“Sounds lovely,” David rolled his eyes even as he smiled, relieved and thankful. “Did you at least buy a property here?”

“Of course. I’d be an excellent hostage negotiator.”

“Of course,” David returned, waggling his eyebrows and laughing. “What are my chances of not having an inedible organic dinner tonight?”

Patrick grinned and turned towards David, not even bothering to hide his ear-to-ear, sunny smile. “The Russian Tea Room has veal and rib-eye and lamb. It’s Russian. You’ll live through this one.”

“Where did you get the little vegan healthy food Nazi? I spent the last few years eating absolute shite, but some of the crap your son’s tried to feed me today makes prison food look gourmet.”

With another laugh and the feeling of contentedness spreading through him, Patrick threw his arm over his cousin’s shoulders and pulled him along after Charlie and Raleigh. The former looked over his shoulder and smiled at the sight of the cousins, and another feeling of thankfulness and adoration washed over him at how lucky he’d gotten with his family…at least, his family of choice if not the elders in his biological one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like there's so few chapter left...I'm gonna cry...and maybe get some work done (probably not).


	57. "You Love It" by Becky G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The glass closet walks the red carpet

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Why did no one tell me it was so damn hot in Death Valley?

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck some of us thought you were smart ;)

 

**Text message from David**

**David:** Yer sons out here charming crewmembers left right center

**Patrick:** If they ask for an interview the answer is no

**Patrick:** I want to be there

**Patrick:** So does Shannon

**David:** Is she still in town cuz?

**Patrick:** working out of the godfrey group building in downtown la

**David:** We should all do dinner…:D

**Patrick:** Ill book a table at Otium

**David:** G2g oh shite boyos on the move

 

**Anders Jarsson (@Anders_onset)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ your son is giving me directions on how to make this movie better…and they’re good and factual #impressed

 

**miraclemira_ca**

OMFG who goes on a family vacation they never wanted to go on and gets to meet Patrick Beck, Raleigh Beck, and Patrick Gallagher??????!!!!!!!! :D :D :D

**infochatrick**

No fucking way?! All THREE of them???? Is Raleigh as adorable in person?

**futuremrsbeck**

Sigh…seeing two best friends coparenting and hanging out on set DOESN’T MEAN THEYRE FUCKING

**roarlikeanirishmen**

NO ONE SAID THEY WERE!!!!! Find some goddamned chill peeps.

**miraclemira_ca**

they’re like this adorable little family unit and Raleigh calls Charlie papa and I can’t even :)

 

To: beck.charlie69@gmail.co.uk

From: stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

Subject: Your best friend

So your bff’s mother shows up at the house yesterday with Damien and a lasagna talking about how two boys and a toddler can’t possibly feed themselves (I’m grateful, though honestly). Then the next day Salem sends me a picture of Ra-Ra and Poppy crashed out on our sofa along with Brian, Adam, Bridget, Anna, and Uncle Cody as well as one of David and Salem onset with the munchkin. I know you called them. Thanks my love. Not gonna lie it’s been good with David here but I needed all these people around. It makes me feel considerably less lonely without you here.

Raleigh and I miss you. Call us when you land in Guatemala City.

I love you,

Patty

 

**RT by @MaggieLGallagher @OfficiallyEvelyn @davidahearne**

**The Unmasked (@UnmaskedMagUK)**

Lastest celebrity scandal: @bittersweetsurrender ‘s @TorinCadogan admits to affair with @StPatty_

 

**Text message to Harry**

**Patrick:** Ur sure abt this?

**Harry:** Look I can handle Torin

**Harry:** Whatever happened yrs ago he’s over it.

**Patrick:** If u say so

**Harry:** Play nice. I’m giving you the go-ahead to confirm.

**Patrick:** My manager okayed this?

**Harry:** Sure. He was drunk at the time but yes.

 

**Text message to Patrick**

**Charlie:** I love you

**Charlie:** Good luck on the interview today

**Charlie:** Also is Sale still there to help David with Raleigh today and tomorrow?

**Patrick:** Course. He came back down just for this.

 

**Radio Interview with Patrick Gallagher**

**Interviewer:** There’s all these rumors around that you and Bittersweet Surrender’s drummer, Torin Cadogan, had this illict affair before you started on _Ethereal_.

**Patrick:** I mean…I don’t really consider a two or three year long relationship an ‘illicit affair.’

**Interviewer:** ( _lengthy pause_ ) Are you saying this rumor is, in fact, true?

**Patrick:** What I’m saying is that Torin and I dated for a number years. From when I got out of sixth form college at eighteen until just before I began _Ethereal_. We lived together in LA and broke up when I made the decision to move to London. Everyone’s making a big deal out of this, but it’s not a problem for me. I’m unconcerned with what everyone has to say.

**Interviewer:** That’s big. Most people wouldn’t feel that way if their dirty laundry got dragged out for all the world to see.

**Patrick:** It’s not really dirty laundry. We were a couple.

**Interviewer:** Was this a phase? Questioning? Are you gay?

**Patrick:** No, no, I’ve known my sexuality since I was really young even if I didn’t tell my family…or the rest of the general public. I’m bisexual. Dated men. Dated women. _Knocked up_ a woman. Not my finest hour admittedly. It’s not exactly unsurprising considering how liberal everyone is around this town.

**Interviewer:** I guess the obvious question is if you have a … partner?

**Patrick:** That works.

**Interviewer:** So do you?

**Patrick:** I’m focusing right now on my son and both of our careers. There’s been a lot of big changes. I don’t particularly have the time to invest in…uh…courting, I suppose.

 

**Rena Calhoun (@rena_cal_gallagher)**

Ohhhhhh myyyyyyy whaaaaaaa?

 

**AJ Donovan (@thisirishdame)**

Holy shite. Who saw that coming? You go @StPatty_

 

**Anonymous Tracy (@namethestarschatrick)**

If @StPatty_ isn’t with @CharlieBeck I’ll chew my own arm off.

 

**Olivia Hatfield (@infochatrick)**

@namethestarschatrick ahahaha find some chill Trace!

 

**Jocelyn Clarisse Moran (@jcm_230198)**

Sigh @StPatty_ joining the ranks of attention seeking celebs trying to suck the lgbt dry #fuckouttahere

 

**RT by** **@949701ra_ra @shanabanana98 @davidahearne @brianfromcork @overrainbowadam @13poppies @Salem_Petrov @CharlieBeck @OfficiallyEvelyn @SightsOnSienna @notthecountry @Mc_QueenHolly @DexterCarroll @MahonOftheStars**

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

The LGBT community has come insanely far in the last few years thanks to people like @StPatty_ stepping up and coming out as people proud of who they are and who they love #pride

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

I feel like it was naïve of me not to think Guatemala would be so hot

 

**Mikala Hina (@IslandKalaHina)**

@CharlieBeck I think I might agree with that assessment

 

**Rianne Ziradana (@readyforrianne)**

@CharlieBeck @IslandKalaHina says the two men who spend their free time lounging poolside at the hotel

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@readyforrianne when not running around through the Guatemalan jungle you mean right?

 

**Patrick Gallagher’s new mystery man**

Barely two weeks since the early June announcement of Patrick Gallagher’s bisexuality and a new man seems to be on the scene. Since ending his relationship with _Ethereal_ costar, Evelyn Merritt, in March 2018 the recently out Irishborn actor hasn’t been definitively linked to anyone, though there have been numerous rumors about an affair between the actor and his closest friend and fellow actor, Charlie Beck. However, it seemed the dry spell has come to an end with the actor being spotted around Los Angeles with an unidentified, dark-haired man. Not only has Gallagher been pictured with the man, but so has his son, Raleigh Beck, pictured leaving the set of his film, _Family Affair_ , in the male’s company to meet up with Gallagher and his family for a dinner. Whoever he is we hope he sticks around

**Comments:**

**arthur_bailey commented:** ‘Whoever he is’ is Patrick’s first cousin…so not his boyfriend. Just to be clear.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@davidahearne whoa this takes family dysfunction to a whole new level

 

**David Ahearne (@davidahearne)**

@StPatty_ probably should have told myself I wasn’t straight and was out shagging my cousin

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ @davidahearne I leave two for 2min and you’re both up to your eyeballs in drama #ffs

 

**Text message from Patty the Bae**

**Patty the Bae:** No time to come and see you in Siberia

**Charlie:** Its fine Pattycake. I honestly hadn’t expected it.

**Charlie:** Siberia’s pretty far away.

**Patty the Bae:** I miss you though. So does Raleigh of course but probably not in the same way

**Charlie:** Hopefully not!

**Charlie:** Would it be better or worse to say I’ve already got a dildo up my ass?

**Patty the Bae:** Fuck

**Patty the Bae:** Call me

**Patty the Bae:** Now.

 

**Interview with Elena Valence**

**Interviewer:** All of your songs seem to be very emotionally driven. Very heavy beyond that. Do you draw from your personal life to write them?

**Elena:** Absolutely. I’d say that my albums are a bit like my diaries but it’s a bit more complicated than that.

**Interviewer:** In what way?

**Elena:** Well, it’s not necessarily true. Don’t get me wrong, I write from experience all the time. I draw a lot from my personal life in to help connect emotionally with both the song and my fans, but they’re also a bit more removed than that. It’s not always about me.

**Interviewer:** So…you write about friends? Family? Things they’ve gone through that you’ve seen?

**Elena:** Sometimes, yeah. Music’s always been about connecting for me. Emotion. Sometimes I write about things I haven’t personally experienced but that people I know and love have dealt with.

**Interviewer:** Is it harder to gain emotional impact when you do that?

**Elena:** Not at all. I can sympathize. I can empathize. I can relate to the way they felt if not the exact situation. That’s the whole point. Song writing is so subjective, you know? It’s easy to get things misconstrued.

**Interviewer:** Things like the meaning or situation that inspired a song?

**Elena:** Of course! It’s human nature, isn’t it? Sometimes I help with that too. I’m emotionally driven, and I can’t always control my anger and allow things to get twisted, but I think it’s easy to look at a song and decide ‘that’s what that means, that’s what happened’ when it’s not necessarily true.

**Interviewer:** So you can write about a boyfriend pressuring you and misusing you and you leaving despite loving them before you have respect for yourself without that being exactly what happened?

**Elena:** Look, that situation is a lot more complex than most people think, most of the time it is. I felt betrayed. I felt used. I felt humiliated. And I was, but that’s not the whole story. Everyone simply got carried away with making guesses.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Salem_Daiki what the actual fuck even?

 

**Text message from Harry**

**Harry:** This is where we start cleaning things up.

**Harry:** Don’t be a fucking idiot or I’ll monitor your Twitter usage

**Patrick:** Drama queen.

**Harry:** You’re asking for me to treat you like a child. You know that?

 

**Iris Landry (@Iris_Landry)**

Getting told how to act from a toddler is a new low in my life.

 

**RT by @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ @Salem_Daiki @notthecountry @Anders_onset**

**Sinclair Tatu (@SinTatu)**

@Iris_Landry ok but was the toddler right? If so then you’re absolutely right, it’s pathetic you can’t do your job as well as an acting novice child #sorrynotsorry

 

**Nicya Monoya (@nicya_monoya)**

Cast wrap parties always have me bawling like a baby

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@nicya.monoya awwww do you need a hug?

 

**Nicya Monoya (@nicya_monoya)**

@CharlieBeck yes :( come cuddle me

 

**Mikala Hina (@IslandKalaHina)**

@nicya_monoya I thought I was your bestie. Where is the loyalty?

 

**Rianne Ziradana (@readyforrianna)**

@IslandKalaHina @nicya_monoya with her sobriety atm

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: haroldbsterling@sterlingandireland.co.uk

Subject: The Premiere

Alright boys,

The _Batman: Arkham Unveiled_ premiere is coming up, and you two are cleared to go together. That being said if Xavier tries to call you, Charlie, just don’t pick up the phone he’s still being incredibly ridiculous about the idea of coming out. That goes for your father as well. We need to talk about what you’re planning on doing when your contract with Xavier ends. I know you two usually handle outfits by yourselves thanks to Charlie’s control issues but Jazz is coming down to dress you because that’s what I need from the pair of you. In any case I’ll be down in LA so if you have any question it can hopefully hold out until then.

Harry Benton-Sterling

 

**Text message from Lord Vader**

**Lord Vader:** I don’t think you should through with this

**Lord Vader:** You’re an actor. You know better

**Charlie:** I’m coming out dad. Stop trying to convince me not to.

**Lord Vader:** Youre in a glass closet. That should be enough

**Charlie:** It’s not enough

**Charlie:** I know u dont approve but this is something I need.

**Lord Vader:** This could destroy ur career

**Charlie:** Im an actor not a footballer. Relax

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

I feel like the whole band’s back together! Except, you know, @ArthurBailey off working or whatever playing professional soccer is called.

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@Salem_Daiki it’s called FOOTBALL!!!!! Also fuck you someone has to pay the bills

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@ArthurBailey 99% sure I make more money than you.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Salem_Daiki @ArthurBailey can you silence your marital argument? Pretty please? I feel so uncomfortable O.O

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@StPatty_ it’s like you think we’ve never met you before. You’re full of sh*t.

 

**Jazz Tiergarten (@Jazz_StyleGroupUK)**

@ArthurBailey @Salem_Daiki @StPatty_ shut the fuck up so he can finish getting ready -_-

* * *

“Run this by me again,” Charlie remarked as he came out of the closet to stand in front of the mirror in his sitting room as Jazz came up behind him and rested her chin on her knuckles on studied him in the glass. “He’s  _leaving_ her…for Sienna? And Dante. And Rocco. And Allegra?”

“You say that like it’s a surprise. Isn’t that your father’s usual MO?” Salem inquired half-heartedly from where he reclined on the sofa and flipped through a popular technology magazine without the slightest hint of any real interest. Snow scuttled into the room preceding Raleigh’s arrival and rested her head on Salem’s thigh. He ran his fingers absently through her white fluffy fur with a grimace curving his lips that had Charlie stifling laughter. “I went to lunch with Poppy and her not-girlfriend Ra-Ra just the other day – they brought Kanani and I felt like I went to some kind of hamster convention with all the chickpea salads and kale wraps – and apparently your stepmother, former stepmother, Patricia has decided to move her brood back to the UK so that she can officially be a card-carrying member of the Samuel Beck’s glamorous ex-wives party.”

Charlie beamed over his shoulder at Salem who ran his fingers through his turquoise hair moments before Raleigh came running into the room and threw himself into Salem’s arms with a jubilant cry. The toddler scurried into Salem’s lap and burrowed into his arms, reaching down to stroke Snow on the snout. His head tipped back to rest against Salem’s collarbone as his eyes watched Jazz tweak Charlie’s suit before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes on him in the mirror.

“And mum and Kaja are just okay with that?” Charlie asked Salem archly.

Salem shrugged, “They’re not vindictive like you.”

Scoffing, Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes as Patrick strode into the room in only a pair of sweatpants and a harassed expression as Harry and Shannon followed behind him. David brought up the rear considerably more slowly and munching on a bowl of pasta while he settled on the sofa beside Salem and Raleigh, crossing his ankles and watching the action unfold without the slightest hint of remorse.

Jazz whirled around to glare at Patrick, stopping him in his tracks as he raised his hands innocently. “You didn’t even _start_ getting dressed yet?”

“All my clothes are in here,” Patrick said, stepping around her to raise his eyebrows at Charlie. He leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, first a peck followed by a longer kiss as he cupped Charlie’s face in his hand. “Hey, Sunshine, you look amazing.”

Harry clapped his hands and pointed at the pair of them threateningly. He made an irritated noise and gesticulated wildly. Shannon’s eyes widened, and she edged away to plop down onto the arm of the sofa beside David, pressing a kiss to her cousin’s temple in greeting. Releasing a long huff, exaggerated huff of breath, Harry ran a hand through his hair and clenched his teeth as he snapped at them: “Just get dressed. Your limo driver’s already downstairs raring and ready to go.”

Patrick pointed a finger at Harry while Charlie crooked an eyebrow. “Don’t get testy with us just because _you’re_ nervous about tonight.”

“Clothes!” Jazz shouted at Patrick, grabbing his arm and shoving him towards their closet. “Now!” Whirling around to face the assembled gang on the couch, Jazz raised her eyebrows at Harry primarily. “I don’t know how you deal with them. Hat,” she said instructed Charlie, plucking up a fedora and handing it over to Charlie who pulled it on over his artfully tousled curls.

“You look pretty papa,” Raleigh preened from where he sat in Salem’s lap in Chewbacca pajamas with his dark curls hanging just below his shoulders.

Charlie grinned and strode over to the toddler, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Thanks munchkin.”

“Don’t you think you should get a haircut, Raleigh?” Shannon asked while Salem scowled at her, Charlie glared, and Raleigh made a disgusted face and stuck his tongue out.

“We’re trying to raise an individual. He’ll cut his hair when he wants to,” Patrick remarked as he stalked out of the room, brushing off Jazz’s attempts to adjust his clothing as he came over to Charlie and stood in front of him. Without a word, Charlie reached out to button up his shirt and blazer, turning to Jazz who glanced between Patrick and Harry before huffing and handing over a black cashmere scarf instead of the tie Charlie had been expecting.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and cross his arms over his chest, “She’s just trying to help.”

“Don’t,” Patrick ordered as tonelessly as Charlie draped the scarf around his neck and tied it while Salem whistled and looked between the pair of them. Raleigh stuck his tongue out at Harry and Shannon in turn, cuddling back into Salem’s warmth and grinning smugly at his parents as he sank his fingers into Snow’s coat.

Jazz grabbed both their elbows and tugged them over towards the mirror, leaning against the wall beside it and narrowing her eyes on them as Harry stepped up beside her and studied them through pursed lips. Crossing her arms over her chest, Jazz narrowed her eyes on them before nodding slowly and glancing over to Raleigh. “What do you think, little man?”

Raleigh perked up and hopped off Salem’s lap to run over and leap into Jazz’s waiting arms. He rested his chin on his fist as his eyes narrowed, nose scrunched, and eyebrows drew together as he studied them critically. Frankly, they’d been lucky Raleigh’s keen eye for fashion hadn’t caused Charlie’s mother to spirit him away as much as she very obviously had wanted to when he’d first shown appreciation for designer clothes and less than casual outfitting in public and in private. Patrick simply seemed to view it as a hassle whereas Charlie couldn’t help but be hopelessly enchanted by his ever-growing sense of style. Neither could Bailey, it seemed, as he kept sending Burberry and Alexander McQueen kids clothes that Raleigh would spend hours prancing around the house in when he got the packages in the mail.

“Good,” Raleigh nodded succinctly, pressing a kiss to Jazz’s cheek as she blushed. He patted a hand against the back of her neck. “Daddy and Papa look very good. You dress them nice, Auntie Jazz.” He turned and glared at Harry before demanding to be let down, “You mean.”

Charlie smiled and leaned against Patrick, pressing his face against Patrick’s forearm as he laced their fingers together. Harry scowled while Jazz rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive hand, swiping a sugar cookie off of the plate on the table and taking a bite of it as she dropped into the loveseat. They had talked over Raleigh’s innate desire to keep his hair exactly the same way, but Raleigh had expressed that he’d cut his hair for films but otherwise wanted to let it grow. Honestly, they hadn’t seen a reason to deny him and agreed to let him grow out his hair on the expectation that he learn how to tie his own ponytails. Once he had, they hadn’t bothered to push.

Jazz did good work, Charlie could reluctantly admit, gotten them to complement each other subtly enough that it wasn’t in your face but bluntly enough that it couldn’t be denied that’s exactly what she’d intended on doing.

In a double-breasted Dolce and Gabbana suit dotted with golden bees, a white Sandro shirt with a black stripe around the rim of the collar, and a gold silk tie, Charlie looked both dapper and expensive yet also old school with the fedora poised over his mussed blond curls. Patrick wore gray Armani suit matched the silver-gray trim on the edge of the suit, a Versace baroque button-up shirt, and a black cashmere scarf with his hair styled up in a quiff and looking like he should have a cigar in one hand and a martini in another as some highly illegal poker game (something Patrick swore had only happened once).

Winking at Charlie with a sultry look in his eye, Patrick stuck out his tongue to show him the pearl and golden tongue ring he’d stuck in most likely without Jazz, Shannon, or Harry’s consent. Charlie bit his bottom lip as he grinned and shook his head.

Harry nodded and put his hands on his hips. “Shannon and I are naturally going with you for supervisory purposes.” Shannon slanted Harry a sarcastic look that had Charlie and Patrick raising their eyebrows at each other while Salem smirked at the publicist and got to his feet, tossing Raleigh over his shoulder and making him giggle and squeal as he kicked his legs.

“You know, he can walk,” Charlie pointed out while Patrick laughed.

Salem tossed Charlie a horrified look and clutched Raleigh to his chest. “Fucking hell, Raleigh, do you hear the words coming out of your dad’s mouth? Awful.” Raleigh giggled while Salem raised his eyebrows. “David and I are going to start the _Harry Potter_ marathon.”

“I thought it was _Star Trek_ ,” Patrick frowned.

“Overruled,” David answered for Salem. “Have a good night but not _too_ good.”

“That goes for you too, Potter child,” Salem called out to Harry.

Harry stilled and glared, flipping him off discreetly as he exited the room laughing. When he and David had gone, Harry gestured for everyone to follow him as he made his way down the hall and downstairs. He slapped his hand calmly on the shoulder of the limousine driver sitting in their foyer who hopped to his feet and nodded in friendly and familiar greeting to Harry. Charlie’s eyebrows went up as he and Patrick glanced at each other.

Buttoning up his three-piece woolen suit that had Charlie biting his lip and waggling his eyebrows proudly at Harry, “You look great.”

Harry pointed a finger at him, “Shut up.” Charlie held up his hands innocently, and Patrick wrapped an arm around his waist as he laughed. Stilling, Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Patrick while Charlie’s eyes widened and looked between them with a growing smile. “I know you don’t actually have a tongue piercing in to go to a movie premiere. You wouldn’t do that to me. I know you wouldn’t. Tell me you wouldn’t.”

Patrick reached out and pressed a hand to his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Everything’ll be fine, Harold. Don’t stress.”

“Don’t stress, right,” Harry nodded and rolled his eyes. Shannon stifled a smile, straightening and sobering when Harry shot her a hard look that reminded her no matter how lax the hierarchy in their workplace relationship felt, he _was_ her boss. “We’ve gone over this about a hundred times, and I know that _you_ know what to do and what not to do. That being said: don’t bait the interviewers – I’m talking to _you_ Patrick – and don’t get condescending – I’m talking to _you_ Charlie – and don’t try to schmooze them if they step over the line. Let it go. Am I clear?”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Patrick remarked with a bright grin as Charlie leaned into him and rested his chin on Patrick’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his jawline. “Always trying to spoil my mood.”

“What can we say? We both love games,” Charlie joked lightly as Patricked prodded him out the door. He paused to look between Harry and Shannon. “Look, we’re not Cris and Iri, okay? We can keep our mouths shut about all the hideous inner workings of the entertainment industry. I get why you’re stressing out about this, but don’t be. At this point, you’re kind of an expert on celebrity closet cases coming out.” Charlie gave Harry an encouraging smile and reached behind him to grab hold of Patrick’s hand’s, relaxing minutely when he squeezed back in wordless, silent, discreet comfort to the fear he refused to let anyone see.

* * *

Patrick tapped his fingers on Charlie’s thigh while his thumb rubbed against the skin of his fiancé’s hand. Inhaling deeply, Charlie released it, jagged and tense, as he turned to Patrick who smiled at him softly and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. The sounds of the crowds and clicking of cameras could already be heard from inside the limousine as it pulled up outside of the Chinese Theatre, and Charlie could feel his heart pounding and blood pressure rising as he glanced from the tinted windows to meet Patrick’s eyes.

His eyes warmed, and he smiled gently, picking up his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as he flicked his jade ring. He didn’t push harder and didn’t try to calm nerves that would never be relaxed, because he knew Charlie well enough to know better, to know that as much as Charlie wanted to be out and said for years he didn’t care what anyone thought, he was still nervous and scared, though he didn’t particularly know what he was scared of.

“Ready?” Patrick asked, the question a double-sided knife.

Charlie shrugged and released another breath, this one longer and slower, “Ready.”

“Then get out of the car,” Harry told them point-blank from where he buried his face in his phone screen.

“You’re a bucket of sunshine and joy today,” Patrick remarked glibly as the door opened transforming the muted screams and yells and catcalls and shouts into boisterous cacophony. Quickly, Patrick gave Charlie’s hand one last squeeze and an affectionate smile before he slid out of the car, buttoning his jacket and waving.

Charlie rolled his eyes and bit out a quiet laugh at the way the volume and shouts seemed rise as Patrick appeared before the assembled crowd of press and fans. He turned to Harry and raised his eyebrows. “Were you ready when you came out?”

“No one ever is except straight people. I thought that’s why you were doing this,” Harry pointed out.

“I’m doing this for me,” Charlie returned levelly.

“That’s what they all say,” Harry replied, pointing out the door. “Now. Get out of my limo.”

“Not yours,” Charlie pointed out.

“Isn’t it, though?” He tossed back archly with a wry grin, curling the edges of his lips and inclining his head.

Charlie frowned and stepped out of the car behind Patrick.

The volume of the crowd quieted instantly, and Charlie’s eyes skirted everyone with bemusement and thoughtfulness before he turned to Patrick, quirking an eyebrow as a wry smile curled up her lip. Patrick met Charlie’s eyes with the slightest of smiles as he shook his head and inclined his head towards the red carpet and the parade of paparazzi that seemed to have come out of their reverie to begin snapping photographs of the pair of them while the crowd seemed both hushed and absolutely frantic.

They walked together towards the doors with Patrick’s hand hovering over the small of Charlie’s back as he walked ahead of him. They exchanged a glance with each other as Harry and Shannon hopped out of the back of the limousine to follow slightly behind them, half surgically attached to their phones and half monitoring the progress as they made their way from photographs towards actual spoken-word interviews that Harry was barely if at all convinced they wouldn’t even accidentally screw up. His eyes moved back to Patrick who raised his eyebrows at Charlie and gave a noncommittal shrug.

“We’ll be fine,” Patrick murmured to Charlie.

Charlie hummed and rolled his eyes half-heartedly, biting his bottom lip as he smiled back dutifully at Patrick.

“Patrick! Patrick, over here!”

“Who’s that?” Patrick turned to ask Harry as he came up behind them.

“Not them,” Harry replied succinctly in answer.

Shannon’s shook her head at Harry and told them, “ _E!_ ”

When the press continued to call out Patrick’s name, occasionally interspersed with Charlie’s name, their tones laced in confusion, Charlie clenched his teeth and looked between Patrick and Harry. He’d spotted Andi Thierren, a journalist for a pop culture and entertainment YouTube channel that he’d met more than a couple times and shared quite a few Cosmopolitans and Martinis with; he trusted her more than the average entertainment journalist, but Charlie, who’d spent most of his life – adolescent or adult – playing the sun to the film industry’s galaxy, knew that this wasn’t _his_ dog-and-pony show.

Patrick hesitated in front of the medium maelstrom and peered at Charlie who shook his head with his lips pressed together in a hardline as the edges curled up. Huffing as Charlie smothered a laugh, Patrick looked to Harry behind them. “Who then?”

Harry crossed his eyes before giving Patrick a fickle smile so brittle and fake it might as well be venomous. “You’re twenty-five. How long have you been in this industry that you can’t make that assessment yourself? Do I have to do everything?”

“You’re our publicist?” Patrick offered haltingly.

Charlie stifled a laugh and a smile, elbowing Patrick as he nodded to the woman. “Andi Thierren from that YouTube channel I watch.”

“Someone knows what they’re doing,” Harry huffed as he winked at Charlie and waved at Andi who perked up happily even as she reciprocated with a hesitant, uncertain wave.

“That’s literally what my management pays _you_ for,” Patrick grumbled as Charlie nodded in Andi’s direction. Sighing, Patrick complied and guided Charlie over to the enthusiastic journalist. “Hi, Andi.”

“Hi Patrick, Charlie,” Andi nodded at them, her eyes twinkling delightedly as they landed on Charlie. She turned her head to smile into the lens of her film camera, “I’m Andi Thierren with _Film Fanatics_ online here at the premiere of _Batman: Arkham Unveiled_ with film star, Patrick Gallagher, who played the Joker and, apparently, Charlie Beck. What’s wrong? Couldn’t get a date?”

Patrick seemed startled before he burst out laughing and smiled broadly. His eyes moved to Charlie and back to Andi. “You’re good. I get it. Okay. What if I said he was my first choice?”

“I’d say you made a good one,” Andi pointed out.

“He _is_ sexy, isn’t he?” Patrick joked lightly while Charlie grinned and shook his head, playing with his engagement ring anxiously. “I know, I know, everyone was half-expecting me to bring Raleigh as my date to this premiere – ”

“Raleigh has a bedtime,” Charlie intercepted.

“Raleigh’s being babysat by _Salem_ ,” Patrick pointed out.

“ _Salem_ knows Raleigh has a bedtime, and if he ‘forgets’ then Bailey’s going to be looking for a new boyfriend,” Charlie volleyed sternly, and Patrick relented. Salem and David had both been briefed on their new plan of pushing bedtime since Raleigh’s working from dawn till dusk five days a week on the movie set meant he needed a regiment that included sleep.

Andi blinked at them and smiled impishly at Charlie. “Can I ask about your friend…Salem…Kimura-Petrov?”

“I thought the press called him Konstantin,” Patrick mused.

“About the pictures?”

“I thought Salem already had quite a lot to say about that,” Charlie shrugged with a bright smile. “Aren’t we supposed to be asking about a movie? I did think that’s why he brought me here since I don’t put out on the first date.”

Charlie could _see_ Harry cringing in his periphery while Shannon giggled.

Patrick stilled minutely before turning to Charlie with a taken aback and bewildered expression on his face that quickly turned into a grin. “Yes, actually, you do,” Patrick pointed out. And God help him, Patrick was going to give Harry an aneurysm.

Andi laughed while Charlie reddened and shook his head still smiling as he shifted his weight into Patrick. “I feel objectified…” Patrick nodded while Andi and her cameraman laughed. He turned with a flourish, “Patrick Gallagher is that your subtle way of calling me a slut?”

Andi’s eyebrows rose while Patrick rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You’re quoting young adult novels now?”

“The adaptation of that book was terrible…also, I can’t believe you quoted _Vampire Academy_ …or that _that_ line didn’t make it into the movie,” Patrick pointed out.

“When they remake it, I volunteer,” Charlie remarked cheekily as he pressed against him.

Nodding, Andi turned to Patrick. “There’s been a long and _impressive_ alumni of actors who’ve played the Joker. Did that alter or adapt the way you decided to play the character?”

“I played the Joker? I thought I played Jack Napier,” Patrick exclaimed dramatically. “Sinclair lied to me, dammit!” Charlie devolved into laughter while Andi shook her head, and the warm, affectionate smile that Patrick leveled him with made even Harry, in all his taciturn seriousness, melt and soften. They hadn’t _completely_ fucked it up. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, we're so close to the end of this and then I have one more chapter to write about Raleigh and...I'm dying on the inside. How am I going to properly procrastinate?


	58. "Kiss With a Fist" by Florence + the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galas provide excellent places for confrontation

**Andi Thierren (@FilmFanAndi)**

Check out my #ArkhamUnveiled red carpet int. with @StPatty_ @CharlieBeck

 

**Sinclair Tatu (@SinTatu)**

@FilmFanAndi I hope you got the good stuff. Otherwise I’ll be bored during seating

 

**Andi Thierren (@FilmFanAndi)**

@SinTatu absolutely yes would you expect any less from me? *raises eyebrows meaningfully*

 

**Heather Monroe (@monroelikemarilyn)**

Best day of work ever! Met @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ out with Raleigh #floatsawayonacloud

 

**Text message from Harry**

**Charlie:** Are u sure about this?

**Harry:** It’s fine. It’s time.

**Harry:** Elena’s ppl have been playing cleanup

**Harry:** Everything’s ready. Are you ready?

**Charlie:** Of course im ready

**Harry:** Rly u seem very very nervous?

**Charlie:** I am but that doesnt mean im not ready

**Harry:** Rosie will email u a press release to approve and confirm

 

**Lila Jane Archer (@lila_j_arch13)**

Met @CharlieBeck @IslandKalaHina @readyforrianne at Bootsy Bellows!!!!!!

 

**Mira Ellis (@letmelivechatrick)**

@lila_j_arch13 did you see @StPatty_ there too?

 

**Lila Jane Archer (@lila_j_arch13)**

@letmelivechatrick I’ll never tell ;)

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

Leaving my godson alone with these heathens @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ @davidahearne

 

**The Unmasked (@UnmaskedMagUK)**

BREAKING: Charlie Beck comes out on heels of being photographed with Patrick Gallagher and son Raleigh

 

**Charlie Beck confirms he’s gay**

Speculation has abounded for months around Charlie Beck’s personal relationships, private life, and his sexuality. Months ago photos released on Tumblr of the star and close friend, Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, hinted at a closer relationship between the pair than simply friendship when they met over five years ago. After moving to Los Angeles with rumored lover, former costar, and Irishborn actor, Patrick Gallagher, and his four-year-old son who took Beck’s surname, Raleigh, on the heels of his breakup with popstar Elena Valence, the allegations increased. Post wrap-up of filming _Light Echo_ , Beck released a statement regarding his sexuality saying quote, “I am gay. It’s never been something I’ve been ashamed of, but it is something that I’ve been advised against advertising since I felt entirely too young to recognize what exactly that meant or how it affected me. I would rather not go too deeply into my personal life, and I’m well aware of how my secrets have affected people I’ve come into contact with across the board. I hope everyone can try to understand how difficult this situation has been for me and for all closeted people.” He refused to discuss his personal relationship or address allegations of a romantic relationship with Patrick Gallagher who came out as bisexual in June during a radio interview. We’re all still hoping that the no longer baseless rumors turn out to be true.

 

**Anonymous Tracy (@namethestarschatrick)**

Holy fucking shit.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@namethestarschatrick I thought you knew…

 

**Anonymous Tracy (@namethestarschatrick)**

@StPatty_ I mean I knew but I didn’t know you know?

 

**Lizzie the Rogue (@lizzie_roleauxx88)**

Omfg what the hell #mylesbianheartbeats #yayforchatrick #thankscharlie

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@CharlieBeck congrats on the coming out

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ are living proof that the world is changing #pride

 

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**

Welcome to being out and proud @CharlieBeck we should do lunch when I’m in town #pride #thankscharlie

 

**Text message from Harry Benton-Sterling**

**Elena:** No.

**Harry Benton-Sterling:** This is me asking not ordering but I could say it like this instead:

**Harry Benton-Sterling:** You look more like a friend to a beloved closeted gay man and less like a bitter popstar who fell for gay actor and hates him for not being what YOU want

**Elena:** I hate when you’re right

**Harry Benton-Sterling:** I’m sure you are.

 

**Elena Valence (@e_valence1997)**

@CharlieBeck I’m glad the world can finally see you as you are.

 

**Text message from Kala**

**Kala:** Nice. Very passive aggressive

**Elena:** Thnx I try.

**Kala:** Moron.

 

**Angelika .xx (@anj31kaXx)**

Does this mean we get lots more #chatrick magic? Pleeeeez

 

**Here we go (@trixie_fromtheMovies)**

Here come the crazies out of the woodwork. Just cuz they came out doesn’t mean they’re together #ffs

 

**Nicci Turbon (@turbon.nicci1203)**

@trixie_fromtheMovies doesn’t mean they aren’t either #hets #damn

 

**Susannah be singing (@dontyoucryforme)**

@CharlieBeck is GAY???? I feel like I need to go get my gaydar fixed

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@dontyoucryforme lolz XD probably

 

**flyundertherader**

I’m convinced it’s still a bid for attention. Celebrities these days

**irishbornbae**

…I think that’s a little bit ridiculous

**21greatnoble**

Actually it’s a lot ridiculous. No one would choose to come out in today’s society in this industry for all these years without BEING gay.

**infochatrick**

This guy knows his shit. Who are you?

**21greatnoble**

Salem Petrov.

**namethestarschatrick**

No really.

**dorian_wildechild**

No he’s really Salem Petrov

**thesorceresscreature**

Waaaaaat?

**sunandsurfchazza**

Does anyone else think this is the best generation of young celebs like ever?

**lesbiansforchatrick**

I know! I’m gonna cry. They talk to us on social media, they’re super talented, and they’re spectacularly gay!!!!

**catchingdreams092815**

This makes me so happy…it also makes me feel like a bit of a stalker.

**uptothesky_ev**

I wonder why that is when Cris Emerson is trolling tumblr threads about chatrick

 

**Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher get cozy!**

During a night out with friends and _Parallel_ castmates, actors Charlie Beck and Patrick Gallagher were spotted grinding against each other on the dancefloor of AV Nightclub in Hollywood and sharing a drink. The following morning the pair took Gallagher’s son, Raleigh Beck, out to a breakfast at Scrumptious: Bakery & Café along with their three-legged Alaskan Klee Kai. Both Beck and Gallagher came out as gay and bisexual respectively within the last six weeks though rumors of a relationship between the close friends and long-time roommates have existed considerably longer. Beck just finished wrapping _Light Echo_ and doesn’t begin shooting for _The 49_ , a historical fiction film about the California gold rush, for another couple months.

* * *

“Remember that time you insisted I watch  _Jupiter Ascending_ with you so that I could have a wide and varied knowledge of the science fiction genre in order to not fuck up  _Light Echo_ since you liked the script so much but refused to audition for it?”

Patrick stilled as his eyes narrowed on Charlie.

Turning with a tight, wane smile, Charlie said pointedly, “This is what payback tastes like.”

Patrick scoffed.

Payback, it seemed, tasted like expensive foie gras, prawn cocktails, and caviar, which he didn’t mind so much. What he minded was the tuxedo he’d been forced into even if he had managed to ditch the cummerbund somewhere between the ride from home to here. Here being The Queen Mary, a retired Scottish oceanliner in Long Beach that had been rented out by Samuel Beck and his girlfriend and their former castmate, Sienna.

Frankly, it wasn’t attending the charity gala hosted by the pair that had been the weirdest moment nor what had made him incredibly reluctant. It had been the fact that the entire Beck family – ex-wives included – had been invited to attend and had, apparently, RSVP’d to say that they were coming. As had most of the former _Ethereal_ cast, Sinclair, Tinzy, Anders and Scout, Mikala Hina, and Elena Valence. The star studded guest list had a mix of people Patrick adored and people had would rather never see ever again for the rest of his days living life on planet earth.

Charlie had batted his eyes and pleaded with him.

When that hadn’t worked, Harry had called and told Patrick without the slightest hint he’d take no for an answer that he’d already called a man about a tuxedo and that he ought to do something about ‘that heinous hairdo’ while he was at it.

Patrick had known since he’d woken up to a beyond cranky four year old, grumpy dog, and frazzled fiancé that today was not going to be his day.

“Clearly, if you can still bitch at me, you haven’t had enough to drink,” Patrick told Charlie succinctly, swiping two glasses of champagne off the tray of a passing waitor. “Have another.”

Charlie rolled his eyes and took both of the glass from Patrick’s hand, downing the first in one go and handing Patrick the empty champagne flute with a wry smile and sipping from the second. Patrick narrowed his eyes on his fiancé who only gave a delicate one-shoulder shrug and pressed a kiss to Patrick’s cheek. “Thanks, Trick, real life saver, you are.” His eyes moved passed Patrick and a genuine, bright smile flickered across his face, “Poppy! Jarek!”

“Love of my life! Apple of my eye!” Poppy laughed as Charlie caught her and wrapped her in a hug before moving to hug both Jarek and Lorraine in turn. She flicked a lock of newly dyed strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes and focused her gaze on Patrick. “What do you think of the new color? Jarek says it’s heinous.”

“Jarek would know,” Jarek commented dryly before Patrick could speak. “Jarek is a photographer.”

“A _wildlife_ photographer,” Lorraine inserted.

Jarek tossed her fiancée a scandalized look. “I’m sorry, Lorraine. Whose side are you _on_ exactly?”

“It’s not your best color,” Patrick offered uneasily. Jarek nodded sagely while Charlie sipped from his champagne, eyes wide and utterly unwilling to put his own head on the chopping block to offer an opinion, especially not when Poppy’s eyes narrowed dangerously on Patrick, obviously unhappy with his answer. Patrick shrugged, “You have the coloring every crème de la crème Englishwoman: the kind that acts as camouflage when you lay down on white sand beaches and lean up against off-white walls. The kind that only makes you look…obnoxiously, British-ly _pale_ with winter hair color.”

“I’m _strawberry blonde_. I was full-on blonde before,” Poppy pouted.

“Vibrant blonde,” Patrick pointed out.

“ _Golden_ blonde,” Charlie assisted.

Poppy sighed exasperatedly and waved a hand dismissively. “You all suck, for the record. How’s my nephew?”

“A pain in my arse,” Patrick huffed, reaching over to pluck the champagne from Charlie’s hand and finishing it with a single swallow. It burned a bit as it went down, but after the morning he’d had fighting with their wayward, overworked child, he absolutely needed it.

Raleigh had a tendency to be incredibly grown-up, incredibly sharp, and incredibly well behaved, which meant when he spiraled and wasn’t any of those things both Charlie and Patrick reacted like toddlers thrown into the deep end of a swimming pool without any floaties. His behavior wasn’t personal, but his work schedule had gotten so chaotic that his sleep schedule had taken a serious hit, and Raleigh without sleep was a bit like starving a tiger and hoping it didn’t bite you. It had taken three days of a downward spiral and increasing crankiness for Raleigh to reach the point of an epic meltdown over a bowl of cereal and a missing _Star Wars_ movie (it wasn’t even missing just in a different room), but it had ended with him hyperventilating on the floor, flushed and with a temperature that had kept him off set for the day.

That had only pissed the tiny little demon spawn off _more_ …

So David and Charlie had co-conspired and dosed him with sleeping pills.

Patrick couldn’t even be angry about it. Instead, he’d just called the doctor and monitored Raleigh to make sure he hadn’t been overdosed on Restoril.

Poppy and Jarek’s eyebrows rose and their eyes darted to Charlie who shrugged innocently. “It just wasn’t the munchkin’s day. He’ll be fine by the time we get home. I spiked his orange juice with sleeping pills so I’m sure he’ll be well-rested by the time we get back.”

Lorraine choked on her drink while Patrick pressed his lips together in a hardline and nodded in agreement with her spewed assessment of the situation. Poppy gaped at her brother while Jarek stuttered before asking hesitantly, “Is that… _safe_?”

“I Googled the recommended dosage for children,” Charlie remarked defensively.

“There’s a recommended sleeping pill dosage for children?” Lorraine balked.

“Google has everything.”

Patrick sighed, “Keep it down please. We’re gonna get child services called on us.”

Charlie scoffed and shook his head, “Child services wouldn’t deal with me if I was locking Raleigh up in the closet without food or water for eighteen hours at time. That’s what happens when you threaten them with lawsuits you know they’ll lose.”

Everyone seemed to freeze and gape, glasses lowering so that they could all blink and stare at Charlie wide-eyed, but he didn’t seem to notice the stir of alarm he’d caused, or, if he did, blissfully feigned ignorance, smiling and moving forward to greet his mother, stepfather, and Kaja who’d been accompanied to the gala by a sharply dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair, shocking blue eyes, and a chiseled jawline that Charlie greeted as ‘Oskar’. Patricia trailed behind the pair of glittering women and their dates uncomfortably, shooting dark looks over her shoulder that Poppy and Lorraine, at the very least, seemed to understand.

Charlie met Patrick’s eyes and raised his eyebrows, sidling over to him to whisper lowly, “I think she was hoping that he’d at least be interested in her existence since he bothered to invite her at all.” Charlie informed Patrick quietly. Both of their gazes moved from the assorted members of the Beck family to focus on where the aging and yet still sexually in-demand acclaimed actor stood with a glass of white wine in one hand while his arm wound its way around the slim waist of their former castmate and young actress, Sienna. The pair looked radiant and happy, in complimentary pieces of clothing and bright smiles as they chatted amicably with Anders and Scout, the latter of whom stood close beside his boyfriend with a look of extreme discomfort and an air of readiness that said he needed no excuse to run.

If Patricia had been expecting some kind of reconciliation, she’d been sorely disappointed.

“Uh-oh, don’t look now but here comes your betrayed and brokenhearted ex-girlfriend, Chazza,” Poppy pointed out.

Charlie stiffened, and Patrick peered through the crowd in the direction Poppy’s lacquered fingernail pointed, sighing with his whole body as he caught sight of the woman in question.

Elena Valence looked her usual brand of flawless fabulous with her thick, dark curls half hanging loosely to her waist and half twisted up in a stylish knot at the back of her head. In a chic Carolina Herrara metallic gown, dripping diamonds, and with Kala, muscles tucked into an impeccable tuxedo, on her arm, Elena had transcended flawless into a realm of otherworldly beauty not all helped by the way her mocha skin sparkled in the dim, soft lighting. Her crisp red lips pressed together in a hard line, smoky eyes narrowing dangerously on the pair of them as she began making her way over, dragging an extremely reluctant Kala along behind her.

Kala finger-waved at them nervously.

Their family scattered.

Charlie swiped two more glasses of champagne for them as she approached, and the pair of them took a drink and watched Elena glide across the floor and over to them with a grace and elegance that seemed like she was floating on air instead of walking. Her utter perfection pissed Patrick off more than a little.

“Patrick Gallagher. Charlie,” Elena greeted them, her tone arctic.

Kala winced on their behalf and didn’t say a word of greeting to either of them. It hardly came as much of a surprise since he looked like he wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

“Elena,” Charlie and Patrick spoke up at the same time and winced when her face only darkened at their accidental synchronization.

“So you’re gay. That’s why you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

“Actually, I’m in a committed monogamous relationship. _That’s_ why I wouldn’t sleep with you,” Charlie told her point-blank.

Patrick and Kala winced as Elena glowered, crossing her arms over her chest. “So – what? – if you hadn’t been fucking your best friend _monogamously_ the whole time we were seeing each other, you would have slept with me?” Elena inquired, her voice growing more and more shrill with each word.

He glanced at Charlie as he sipped his champagne, wordlessly asking Charlie _not_ to piss her off anymore than the pair of them had already managed to just by showing up at the gala together, but from the look on Charlie’s face and the decisive way he set his champagne down on the decorative table beside him, Patrick knew he would absolutely not be getting that particular wish fulfilled anytime soon.

“You’re a beautiful, successful straight woman. You utterly underestimate the things I would have done to come out,” Charlie told her bluntly.

“You think it’s easy being a successful black woman in the music industry? Look at where it got me? I’m a joke. Everyone thinks I either bearded for you and then faked heartbreak over it for publicity or that I actually loved you and believed you were straight while you went around hiding the fact that you had a _family_ for _months_. How shitty does that make me look? How shitty does that make me _feel_? And, honestly, _God_ , which one makes me look more pathetic?”

Charlie only crooked his eyebrow and asked, “You’re a ‘black woman’ now?” Elena’s face dropped, and Kala’s eyes went wide as he took an automatic step back. If Patrick loved Charlie any less, he would have cut his losses and run for cover, because the pair of tem were gearing up to a nuclear explosion of epic proportions, and being the supportive fiancé he was, Patrick remained by his – _idiotic, moronic, self-destructive_ – fiancé’s side as he went on: “I know you, Elena. Personally and professionally. I might have been gay, closeted, and using you so that I could come out, but you personally identify as _biracial_. _Creole_. You’re _barely_ black. Your mother was a mulatto. You’re father was Spanish Creole. You capitalize off of the fact that you have brown skin and pretend to identify with their movement in the press for publicity and sales so don’t act like my attempts to come out of my iron nonelective closet was some kind of disgusting move for publicity. I hate PR. You bask in it. You go to the gym in makeup and wear high heels while you grocery shop. You walk around saying you support all these Black Lives Matter movements, but actually, you think they’re troublemakers and rebel rousers and dangerous.”

“You didn’t just use me for publicity, Charlie Beck, and don’t sit here and pretend like you did. This wasn’t some PR dating thing that I got caught up in!” Elena hissed at Charlie while Kala came over to stand beside Patrick.

“I need something stronger than wine and champagne,” Kala muttered to Patrick under his breath.

Patrick bit out a sharp laugh and agreed, the pair of them sipping their drinks genially and watching their loved ones duke it out in the middle of a gala dinner, utterly ambivalent to the inquisitive looks they were garnering.

“We kissed. We held hands. We went on dates. I didn’t convince myself that you loved me and that we were in a relationship. I wasn’t as delusional as you and the press are making me out to be: ‘poor Elena Valence falling in love with the gay actor in a mutual PR relationship!’ You got me to fall in love with you! All the while you’re at home playing house husband with your best friend and costar and raising a kid together.”

“You honestly didn’t think that was weird?” Charlie inquired with annoyance and frustration laced through his tone. “You didn’t think a supposed manwhore in his twenties with nearly unlimited funds living with his promiscuous partyboy costar for _years_ and helping him raise a four year old was the slightest bit concerning? Because that’s normal bachelor behavior, I guess.”

Elena snapped, “I _thought_ I was supposed to trust my boyfriend.”

“Why? I clearly didn’t trust you.” Charlie returned, “Also on what planet does a guy who’s getting propositioned not hit that after months of supposed self-imposed celibacy? Honestly, you believed I was straight? That I was being a gentleman? The only men who are _that_ gentlemanly are fictional characters and men uninterested in what’s being offered. That’s on you, love.”

“My, my, my,” a familiar voice purred from behind Patrick, “what an interesting life you lead, brother mine.”

Patrick gritted his teeth and turned around to face his elder sister who stood in front of him, utterly confident and with a coy smirk on her frosted lips. It had been ages since he’d seen his elder sister and, honestly, Patrick would have preferred if it had stayed that way. He kept updated enough to know she’d started a tabloid magazine called _Unmasked_ that operated out of the UK, which didn’t all explain her presence in Los Angeles worlds and worlds away from both her and her husband’s jobs. He did know he trusted her less now than when she’d _just_ been some tabloid journalist.

“You’re saying that I should have known you were lying about our entire relationship based on you never making or taking a move?” Elena demanded furiously.

“Well, yeah, actually,” Charlie remarked, “I’ve hooked up with guys that were convinced they were straight as long as they were pitching not catching on less obvious hints than that.”

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his sister as Maggie tucked a strand of her overgrown dark bangs behind her ears with a smirk. She tapped her red fingernails against the champagne flute in her hands and giggled mischievously. _What an absolute bitch_. “What are you doing here, Maggie?”

“Can’t a girl go to a gala with her husband without being accused of anything nefarious?”

“Other women can, yes, but you’re not other women. You’re Maggie Gallagher.” Maggie’s lips curved up into a dangerous smile as she shrugged delicately. Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, “I didn’t know Simon knew Samuel.”

“They go way back,” Maggie waved a hand dismissively.

“You lied to me. You manipulated me. You broke my heart. You made me look like a fool in front of the whole world. And I _know_ you did it on purpose,” Elena said to Charlie with an irate fury that drew Patrick’s attention away from his sister briefly to focus on their not-at-all private argument.

He could see Charlie’s family in the distance watching the pair of them with interest having been joined by Alina Rosen who’d shown up in red Alexander McQueen strapless silk bow-detailed dress and beside both her bandmate Shahnaz Attar and her best friend Maverick. Maverick leaned into Harry Benton-Sterling, whispering something urgently as he stared at Elena with barely disguised contempt stemming undoubtedly from an innate loyalty to Charlie rooted back to their days working in Disney. Rosie Ireland had her arm linked through Harry’s and her curvy figure tucked into a Tadashi Shoji floral-side crepe gown with the tips of her Converse peeking out from beneath the hem. When Irial appeared, glancing towards where he’d left his husband in the company of his boyband-mates, Elena seemed to piece together something else entirely, her face darkening.

“You’re not going to lie? You’re not going to tell me you didn’t _try_ to get me to fall in love with you? I wrote a breakup song about you before we’d even broken up with Cris Emerson. Whose friends with Irial Dorian who was roommates with _your_ publicist. Or is that all just a coincidence?” Elena threw her hands up as her lips twisted with bitterness and hurt that Patrick, just this once, couldn’t fault her for. It seemed pretty disgusting if that was the only side of it being seen, but Patrick knew it was more complicated than that.

“Now _that’s_ a juicy story,” Maggie pointed out with a hum.

Patrick turned back to her in disbelief, “Don’t you ever get tired of being a bottomfeeder?”

“Should I?” Maggie returned evenly, not even slightly apologetic.

“Why should I lie? I was forced to hide my sexuality since I was teenager, and I’m not going to be sorry about getting to come out, however it happened. But you’re not angel. You who screwed over your own mother for publicity. You who pretends to back a nationwide movement you can’t stand. You who fucked your music producer to get a record deal with the label you wanted. Honestly, hurting you wasn’t ideal, but I’m not actually sorry about it.”

_That_ remark seemed to shock everyone. Even Maggie’s mouth fell open in an O of surprise, because no matter what anyone thought about what had happened, everyone thought the sweet and adorable Charlie Beck felt bad about it, especially considering the way he’d kept his mouth shut and took whatever the media had dished out towards him.

“You’re an absolute asshole,” Elena finally breathed out in shock.

Charlie pressed his lips together and nodded. “I am. Everyone might like to pretend I’m something other than what and who I am, but I’ve always been this way. I’m not sorry for being who I am. I’m not sorry about having to do what I had to do to be free of all this hypocritical Hollywood bullshit, and if you’re not sorry about capitalizing off an equality movement, then why should I be sorry about capitalizing off of _you_?”

Maggie released a startled laugh, and Patrick glared at her. “Wow, your fiancé is…”

“Excuse me!” Samuel Beck called out, drawing everyone’s attention to where he stood in front of the podium with a microphone in hand, his much younger girlfriend at his side, and a bright smile on his face. Charlie met Patrick eyes and sighed with a shake of his head. “Ladies and gentlemen, Sienna and I would like to thank each and everyone of you personally for coming out tonight and helping us raise money for youth arts programs all across the country. It’s an effort near and dear to both our hearts.” Everyone clapped for a moment, and Patrick sidled up to stand beside Charlie who crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his father suspiciously.

Samuel Beck held up a hand with a wide smile, waiting until the room fell silent to speak again. “I’d also like to thank my family for all being here. Tonight is a special night not only for charity, but also for…” he looked at Sienna who grinned up at him blissfully and ignorantly in love, “ _us_.”

“Oh shit,” Patrick remarked while Charlie tensed and reached out to grip Patrick’s hand tightly.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Charlie mumbled, and Patrick squeezed his hand and tugged him against his side, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders.

He was starting to get a very clear picture of why his sister was here.

“I’d like to share with all of you tonight that my sweet, lovely, amazing girlfriend Sienna has agreed to become my wife, and that in five months time we’ll be welcoming the next baby Beck into the family.”

Charlie gaped, and Patrick’s attention moved to Charlie’s family at the sound of broken glass to find that not only had Jarek dropped the champagne flute in his had but Patricia had shattered hers just from the sheer force from which she was holding it. Oskar gently picked shards out of the disbelieving woman’s hand while Kaja patted her shoulders and met Libby’s gaze. Poppy shook her head and downed three glasses of champagne without stopping to catch her breath.

Elena turned to Charlie with a shocked and dismayed expression on her face. “I’m gonna…I’m uh…good to see you again, Charlie,” she finished hastily and swept away, shaking her head with Kala trailing on her heels.

Charlie turned to Patrick. “You’re absolutely right. This is the last time we’re attending anything for my father.”

“I don’t think it stops being true if you’re not here for the announcement,” Patrick pointed out.

“I very much disagree,” Charlie remarked.

“You know what?” Patrick said, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s temple, cheek, and then jaw, his hand rubbing his bicep as he tried to force Charlie out of his shock. “I’m thinking Pink’s.” Charlie blinked and turned to frown at him in confusion while Patrick nodded and steered him away from the crowd. “You can get that chili dog, I’ll get that amazing burger. We’ll share some onion rings and cheese fries and drown ourselves in rootbeer and black cherry soda. How’s that sound?”

“Depends on if the cheese fries have bacon on them,” Charlie spoke haltingly.

“You can get cheese fries _without_ bacon?” Patrick asked teasingly, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s face.

He felt himself relax slightly when Charlie’s lips curved up into a smile. “Pink’s then.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here, Sunshine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen...don't give you kids restoril unless your doctor says you can. I'm just throwing that one out there, it's probably a bad idea no matter what the internet says.
> 
> Also, Pink's is amazing looking. I saw it on Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives (I think, I watch a lot of the food channel when I'm home) and it just...ugh...yes...root beer and hotdogs and fries and burgers and there's nothing better than american transfat. No sarcasm even though it probably sounds like it. You don't understand how amazing American (and literally every other country) food is until you've lived in england and they're fucking up milkshake and macaroni and cheese. Just. It's so wrong. It's soooooo wrong.


	59. "Locked Away" by R.City ft. Adam Levine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Michi come out...kind of...again

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

It’s been confirmed: I’m coming out!!! #nervousaf

 

**Kimura Michi (@Kimura_Michi)**

….@StPatty_ I though that already happened #justsaying #itdidright

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Kimura_Michi we’re no longer friends because you are suuuuuuch an arsehole :P

 

**Kimura Michi (@Kimura_Michi)**

@StPatty_ :3

 

**Infernal Divine hits Hollywood!**

Noteworthy manga series,      _Jikogu No Kami_ , aka the Infernal Divine series, has made its way from its initial release in Japan to becoming an international sensation, celebrated for its feminist undertones, numerous sexualities, and inclusivity and positivity towards non-binary and transgendered people. Releasing nearly three volumes a year since its release in 2014, the remarkable novels will be releasing their fifteenth volume in Tokyo after the Olympics wrap up. Both anonymous creators have confirmed their attendance as have many celebrities including j-pop band, Bimyou, English football star Arthur Bailey and tech mogul boyfriend Konstantin Kimura-Petrov, actors Charlie Beck, Raleigh Beck, and Patrick Gallagher, model Daphne Beck and Ra-Ra Gallagher, as well as the stars of the upcoming movie’s confirmed cast including Sinclair Tatu set to play fallen angel, Kaede, and Dexter Carroll who’ll be acting as Nephilim newbie, Ridley. Sure to be a star-studded event, everyone seems thrilled and excited to discover the identities of the creative geniuses behind the acclaimed manga series.

**Comments:**

**nina_j_timmons:** How crazy would it be if one of the ‘star-studded guests’ was a creator?

**anonymous:** I literally just choked on my pretzel. How fucking outrageous! No!

**takashiii3:** Having a mental breakdown because I got tix to the signing !!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m going to die now in a puddle of happiness

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Holy fuck children are so tempermental…

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

@CharlieBeck did you just dose him again?

 

**Rebecca Harbourne (@LadyLibby)**

@CharlieBeck @13poppies excuse me did he WHAT?!

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@13poppies why would you do me like that?

 

**anonymous said:**

Okay. Okay. Okay. I’ve been very anti-Chatrick since people started talking about it back in like 2015. I’m so freaking sorry. I’m willing to admit I’m very super wrong because omfg I just got hired to work part-time at Pink’s, this hotdog place in Los Angeles, I was literally almost done with my shift when this kid comes up to my window, and I’m staring at him because he looks so freaking familiar. Next thing I know this guy comes up behind him and just grabs him and tosses him into the air making the kid giggle all super fucking cute. And I’m trying not to externally freakout because: Patrick Gallagher. Next thing I know, Charlie Beck comes up behind them and Patrick hands off Raleigh to Charlie. The kid hugs Charlie, calls him papa, and asks if he thinks daddy will let him have a soda. Charlie looks over at Patrick and they just kind of stare at each other for a minute before Charlie says he’ll convince daddy to let him have one, just this time. Patrick looked about two seconds away from jumping Charlie’s bones but nodded like it took real goddamn effort and started to order. I fucked up their order because I was too busy having to readjust my worldview. And then I started crying, and Raleigh was asking me what as wrong and they were all so nice! I’m sorry I ever doubted. I’m deffo team Chatrick.

**namethestarschatrick:**

I’m not sure you’re not a troll but I choose to accept this.

#glass closet #chatrick #asks #anons #i accept this notion

 

**RT by @CharlieBeck**

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

Ahhhhh I mean I knew he was coming but I didn’t know you know? #surprises #2020TokyoOlympics

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@ArthurBailey weak man isn’t the point of the game to win?

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@CharlieBeck you need to get me drunker to joke like that right now.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@ArthurBailey are you prepared for that? Because @DorianII and I can manage that #youreadybro

 

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

@CharlieBeck @DorianII I’m bringing my Irishman (@carey_me_home)

 

**Irial Dorian (@DorianII)**

@CharlieBeck @Salem_Daiki @ArthurBailey @carey_me_home now it sounds like a fun time :D

 

**Text message to Charlie**

**Patrick:** I hope ur not still hungover bcuz ur son and I r here

**Charlie:** I am ltle bit

**Charlie:** Its fine. Im up. Is he wired?

**Patrick:** Didn’t sleep the whole flt

**Charlie:** Maybe u should get a diff hotel room…

**Patrick:** We’re staying with Sale and Bay genius

**Charlie:** Fucking r we?

**Charlie:** Lovely that means I can go get tea in just my pants

**Charlie:** Bailey had the same idea :)

**Charlie:** Salem’s an asshole. Blasting fucking rap music through the whole damn flat.

**Charlie:** Fuck his parents are here. Update: Bailey and I are hiding in our pants w/ tea in pantry

**Patrick:** Lolz sunshine. Raleigh and I r getting in the car now. B there soon.

**Charlie:** <3 u pattycake. C u soon.

**Charlie:** Fuck! They found us! This looks bad. Salem refuses to help us.

**Patrick:** Hahahahaha

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

My favorite (and only) godchild has arrived!!!!!! #itsagoodday

 

To: kimuramichi@gmail.co.jp; stpatrickgallagher@gmail.co.uk

From: tadashi.yuri@tokyopublishing.jp

Subject: Jikogu No Kami Release

Boys,

This is just a reminder that the official event tomorrow starts at 19:00 at Books Kinokuniya but both of you need to be there an hour ahead of time so that we can get everything prepared and set up. Your families and partners can arrive half an hour early and we’ll let then in however we need your undivided attention for at least half an hour to get everything prepped.

Thank you,

Yuri

 

**RT by @StPatty_**

**Kimura Michi (@Kimura_Michi)**

Todays’ the day.

* * *

“Your boyfriend looked about ten seconds away from having a full on panic attack,” Salem pointed out offhandedly as he took a sip of Bailey’s water and pointedly ignored Bailey’s harassed look.

Salem had aimed for mildly respectable when he’d shown up to the book release, which meant black skinny jeans that hadn’t faded and lacked the usually significant number of intentional rips, a long-sleeved mesh lime green shirt underneath a Bimyou muscle tee, and a pair of knee-high leather boots with buckles that jingled as he walked. His nails had been painted a bright green to match his shirt and his red, white, and blue hair had been tied up in a high ponytail that swayed with each minute movement he made. Even standing beside Bailey, they looked like a conundrum since Bailey had appeared wearing most of Burberry’s summer line with his hair slicked back into a tiny ponytail at the base of his neck.

Unpeturbed by the quizzical looks being shot his way, Salem snagged Bailey’s protégé, Cameron Cunningham as he walked passed, making a beeline for Adam and Brian who’d been flown out by Ra-Ra, Poppy, and Shannon as a surprise for Patrick – a _good_ one, unlike his mother, Kennedy’s, appearance with her husband Rory by her side looking grim-faced and uncomfortable attending without even the slightest hint of an invite. Tossing his arm around Cameron’s shoulders, Salem stared down at him with raised eyebrows.

“Where are _you_ running off to?” Salem offered.

“Leave him alone, Sale,” Bailey purred serenely before Cameron could answer. Cameron looked at Bailey in relief, and Salem shot his boyfriend a long-suffering look, turning back to Cameron.

“Play nicely with the other kids.”

“Are nineteen year olds, ‘kids’ now?” Bailey mused.

“ _You_ were nineteen only yesterday,” Salem pointed out.

“Didn’t stop you or anyone else from fucking me,” Bailey retorted icily, snagging his water bottle from Salem’s hand as he laughed. Cameron colored and looked up at the ceiling like he wished it would swallow him. Charlie glanced back and forth between them and wished silently for an alcoholic beverage desperately; unfortunately, it wasn’t to be since so many of the manga’s fans weren’t of drinking age. Reaching out, Bailey caught Salem’s hand and tugged him closer, lacing their fingers together with one hand and wrapping the other around Salem’s bicep. He leaned into him and pressed a kiss to the underside of Salem’s jaw until he relinquished his hold on Cameron who scurried off and disappeared with Adam and Brian without a backwards glance.

Charlie shook his head at the pair of them, eyes widening and eyebrows raising as Salem’s hand came up to cup Bailey’s cheek and turning his head to capture his boyfriend’s lips in a heated, passionate kiss.

Shifting on the balls of his feet, Charlie tilted back his head and narrowed his eyes to squint at the ceiling, half-amused by their inability to keep their hands off each other in public now that they didn’t have to and half-scarred for life by their newfound habit of sticking their tongues down each other’s throats in front of close friends to make up for all the times that they weren’t allowed to. Frankly, they needed to stop, but Charlie wouldn’t be the one to ever tell them that.

“Uncle Sale!” Raleigh’s called out, delighted.

_God bless you for being an absolute cockblock, Raleigh._

Bailey and Salem drew away form each other abruptly, Salem whirling to catch Raleigh as he appeared through the growing crowd of Japanese teenagers, half of whom had arrived in cosplay of their favorite characters, and launched himself in Salem’s waiting arms, snuggling into his neck as his eyes moved from Charlie to Bailey, settling on the latter with a sweet smile and a genial pat to the cheek. “Hiya Uncle Bay.”

Bailey caught Salem’s small hand between his lips, and Raleigh giggled. Bailey winked at him before letting him go and shifting to press his arm against Charlie’s. “I love your kid, Chaz, but god help me, this is why Sale and I aren’t having any.”

“You get used to cockblocking,” Charlie offered with a laugh.

“I’d rather not,” Bailey grimaced. “That’s what Izumi and Cameron are for, and the best part is that they’re self-sufficient and someone else’s responsibility.”

“Where have you been little man? I’ve had to hang out with your papa and Uncle Bailey. They’re such drags,” Salem heaved an exaggerated sigh, making Raleigh giggle as he twined his arms around Salem’s neck.

“No,” he drawled, shaking his head. “Love papa and Uncle Bay. Fun. Make Uncle Sale happy, yes?”

“Very much yes,” Salem returned with a broad smile, “you caught me.”

Raleigh nodded sagely and poked Salem’s cheek with a funny smile. “Silly Uncle Sale,” he informed him with dry tone. He frowned down at Salem’s nails before picking them up and holding them close to his face to inspect them while Salem waited patiently, sharing a bemused look with Charlie and Bailey. “Pretty nails, Uncle Sale. You paint me next? Green like yours? Please?”

Salem’s eyes darted to Charlie who shrugged, unconcerned. If Raleigh wanted Salem to paint his nails, Charlie would be the last person on earth to stop them. It might make Raleigh’s life more difficult in the long run if Raleigh insisted on spending the majority of his life in the public eye where anything different or different outside the normal standards of defined different was mocked relentlessly, but Charlie figured that they’d cross that bridge when they got there. If his three year old son wanted to experiment with nail varnish, better now when he did it happily and without shame than in a few years when the world had beaten it in his head that that wasn’t the thing for men to be doing.

Salem kissed Raleigh’s cheek and nodded. The exuberance on Raleigh’s face faded slightly when Salem amended, “But not tonight, little man.” He pouted, and Salem continued, “It’s going to be way passed your bedtime when we get back to the flat tonight. I promise, I’ll paint your nails tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“I guess so,” Raleigh sighed tiredly. “Papa gets upset when I stay up passed my bedtime.”

“Exactly,” Salem nodded, “and we don’t want to upset papa do we?”

Raleigh shook his head, “I go play with the girls?” Raleigh asked, peering over Salem’s shoulders at the crowd of colorful girls dressed as Valkyries from _Jikogu No Kami_. Salem laughed and set him down, the three of them watching as Raleigh raced over to them and managed to grab their attention in under a minute.

“That one’s gonna be a heartbreaker,” Poppy said as she came over with Ra-Ra trailing behind her. She pressed a kiss to Charlie’s cheek in greeting before wrapping Salem in a hug.

Charlie scowled and shook his head, looking at Salem with amusement. “Sure you don’t want to rethink children?”

“Only if you’re giving me Raleigh.”

“I think Patrick might object,” Charlie pointed out wryly.

Salem laughed and wrapped his arms around Bailey who responded by winding his arms over Salem’s shoulders, letting his boyfriend press against him without complaint. Bailey pressed a kiss to Salem’s forehead and cheek, nipping his earlobe. Salem pinched Bailey’s side, making him yelp, even as he tossed him a sultry look that if meant to be a warning delivered a fairly obvious invitation to continue pressing his luck.

“You think Sin came in costume?” Salem murmured conspiratorially.

“Thank you very much, I did not!” Sinclair said from behind, nudging between Salem and Bailey. He pointed at both of them in turn with a warning, “Behave children or I’ll dump a bucket of water on your heads.”

“You and what bucket?” Bailey scoffed, eyes narrowing when Sinclair’s only response was to point a finger warningly at him.

Salem crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow as his eyes focused on Sinclair. “I’m surprised to see you here sans Tinzy. He busy or something?”

“Watch it, douchenozzle,” Sinclair warned him.

Charlie exchanged a glance with Poppy who put her hands on her hips. “Did we miss something?”

“Nope,” Sinclair responded dismissively. “Not unless you missed Salem being a complete and total assshole. By the way, has anyone seen Dexter? He hijacked my ride, but I lost him something like half an hour ago and nobody’s seen him since.”

“I’m sure he’s holding court with a bunch of chicks in cosplay,” Salem commented offhandedly. When four pairs of eyes swiveled to him, Salem shrugged sheepishly and finished by saying, “What? I didn’t say he’d do anything with them.”

“Dexter’s ace. It’s highly unlikely he’d be doing anything with anyone anyway,” Charlie added.

“That’s a relief since all those girls are probably underage,” Salem commented cheekily while Poppy, Charlie, and Bailey sighed without the slight hint of exaggeration towards their longtime suffering on behalf of putting up with Salem’s…Salem-ness.

Sinclair looked his usual brand of dangerous despite being surrounded by teenagers in costume in middle of a busy Japanese bookshop. One side of his head shaved, and shaggy dark hair flopped over and curling into his eyes, one earlobe pierced five times, worn jeans tucked into scuffed combat boots, and leather motorcycle jacket with a gray skull t-shirt underneath. And Sinclair didn’t just _look_ tough, Charlie knew. Sinclair’s childhood had been rough, and he’d learned the hard way how to properly defend himself. He’d also learned that half the battle was looking tough enough to deter the battle before the fight even begins. Despite having elevated himself out of the gutter, that mentality had never left him. Sinclair wore combat boots and spike-studded bracelets on the red carpet let alone to a friend’s book release.

“How do you put up with him?” Sinclair inquired of Bailey even as a smile behind to curve up on his lips.

Bailey shook his head and laughed while Salem leaned over and punched Sinclair lightly on the shoulder, ignoring the way both Poppy and Charlie’s eyebrows rose at the action. Sinclair stilled and watched Salem warily as Salem went on as if he noticed nothing – impossible for Salem, frankly.

“You love me. I know it.”

Sinclair’s tension eased slightly as he shrugged, entirely too blasé. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Salem stuck his tongue out at Sinclair who pointed a finger at him warningly.

Charlie shook his head and smiled at their friends, eyes catching on Kennedy Doherty who seemed unbelievably uncomfortable with a cup of coffee in one hand and her eyes on Raleigh where he sat on Rory’s hip blissfully oblivious to the tension between the family members as he prattled and on and on to his grandmother. Ra-Ra and Shannon stood just off to the side, watching Kennedy like a hawk.

Squeezing Poppy’s hand and tapping his fingers against Bailey’s elbow, Charlie detached from the group and moved through the crowd towards the discomforted Gallagher family.

Raleigh’s eyes went wide as he caught sight of Charlie, holding his arms out.

Charlie swept the toddler into his arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek, nodding at Rory before his gaze moved to Kennedy. For a moment, the usual disgust and discomfort flickered through her eyes before she cleared her throat and lowered her eyes, knowing that she _shouldn’t_ feel that way. Charlie’s eyes moved to Ra-Ra and Shannon who turned their backs to the scene in a needless and bullshit display of privacy, but even so, he turned towards Rory with a genuine smile on his lips.

For every issue Charlie had with Kennedy, he had none of the same with her husband. Rory was more than likely the guiding force behind her difficult road towards overcoming her innate homophobia that threatened her relationship with her son and majority of her nieces and nephews. It was clearly a struggle for her, but with Rory’s help, Kennedy was working towards it. She was also working towards gaining her son’s forgiveness for her impromptu disowning of him from the family when he’d come out…that would take infinitely more time.

“How are you, Rory?” Charlie said, half-hugging the man as Raleigh’s fingers canted through Charlie’s hair.

“I’m good…now. I’m not sure how we’ll be _after_.” Rory admitted honestly.

Charlie nodded, “Honestly? It could go either way. He and Michi are still in the back with their agent and publisher so he doesn’t know, and I’m not going to be the one to tell him. I doubt he’ll be thrilled.”

“I figured,” Rory said. “I lobbied _against_ this idiotic idea.”

“I am going to be here to see my son come out about being the amazing artist and writer that he is, Rory,” Kennedy finally cut in shortly. “And it’s been ages since I’ve seen my grandson. I know Patrick doesn’t want me here, but I need to be here to support him. That’s what a mother does.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose as he scoffed and shook his head, “Wow, no shit?”

Kennedy bristled angrily, eyes darting to Raleigh. The four year old worked in Hollywood and lived with two men who’d been entirely unprepared to raise a child. He didn’t even blink at the swear word. In fact, he seemed to have entirely tuned out of the conversation.

_Good for you. At least one of us can._

“Lecturing me on how to raise my son, now?”

“He’s not _your_ …” Kennedy trailed off both due to the venomous look from Rory, Ra-Ra, and Shannon as well as her own training on not pissing off her son. Charlie was surprised to see her attempts to _not_ be a bitchy, impulsive, insulting harpy paying off. Clearing her throat delicately, Kennedy pursed her lips and tilted up her chin, looking like it took everything in her to _not_ finish that sentence as she instead said: “I’m not lecturing you. And I don’t need you to tell me that I hurt Patrick before. I’m endeavoring to do better.”

“We can only hope,” Charlie returned bleakly. “This is _Patrick’s_ day. I don’t want you to upset him when he’s supposed to be celebrating.”

“I have no intention – ”

“Intentions and actions are two different things entirely, Kennedy.” Charlie cut her off abruptly. She fumed, but he continued, unconcerned about her feelings. “I’m telling you not to or I’ll do something about it. Understood? You weren’t invited for a reason. It wasn’t an oversight. Do not upset my fiancé.”

Kennedy huffed but didn’t bother to argue the point further, especially not when Raleigh signaled his decision to tune back into the adult’s conversation by leaning back as far as he could in the circle of Charlie’s arms without toppling over headfirst and grinning at his family.

Charlie watched as four tense expressions grew tender from a single look from the child, and Raleigh turned to him, heedless of the devastation he’d caused.

Poppy was right: Raleigh was going to be a heartbreaker.

“Daddy be out soon?”

“Yes, he will.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Charlie returned, holding up his pinky and letting Raleigh hook their pinky fingers together with a scrunched up nose and a look of sheer determination.

Five minutes later, the crowd hushed as Charlie made his way back to the small group of friends with Raleigh still in hand and Ra-Ra, Shannon, and the three teenaged boys trailing behind as Michi and Patrick’s publisher, Yuri, stepped out from wherever they’d stashed the pair of men, their literary agent, Ryu, following behind him slightly. The two men exchanged a look before Ryu gestured for Yuri to go ahead.

Yuri stepped up before the assembled crowd, buttoning his pinstripe suit anxiously as he cleared his throat, eyes skirting the media who’d partitioned themselves off to the side. It wasn’t unusual for a few media people to attend a highly publicized or highly anticipated book release. What was unusual was the sheer amount of international press covering this particular book release, more than a few having come from LA or London on a call from Harry or simply due to the amount of international celebrities who’d made their way to Tokyo for the release. It was clear that Yuri wasn’t used to the kind of attention he was on the receiving end of; while it might be good for the manga, it probably wasn’t great for the man’s obviously shredding nerves.

“I’d like to welcome you to the release of the fifteenth volume of _Jikogu No Kami_. Today we celebrate a milestone in the series, an upcoming film release, and the creators, authors, and illustrators of the series coming out of anonymity to be the public face of their acclaimed work. Without further ado, I will introduce you all to the two men behind this incredible series: Kimura Michi and Patrick Gallagher.” Salem leaned forward and loosely translated Yuri’s introduction for Charlie and Raleigh’s benefit before stepping back beside Bailey and whispering to his boyfriend as he clapped politely, the sound disjointed amidst the studden deafening silence as the scores of people in the room took in the national j-pop superstar in a studded Blackmeans biker jacket and BAPE Swarovski denim jeans and an actor in a Balmain zebra print tee, PRPS gin jeans (that Charlie _despised_ ), and a pair of gold Android Homme sneakers. One of which they all had to know something about.

The silence gave way to deafening cheers, and Patrick and Michi glanced at each other with mirrored looks of relief, clutching their water bottles in hand as Michi took the microphone Ryu offered him.

“ _Konbanwa_ ,” Michi said when the room quieted with an easy smile before starting off on rapidfire Japanese.

Salem leaned over and rested his chin on Charlie’s shoulder between him and Raleigh as Michi flushed, the teenagers cheered, and he passed the microphone over to Patrick like it was on fire.

Patrick beamed at Michi and laughed. “ _Um…hi everyone._ ” The crowd clapped and cheered while Patrick bit his lip and smiled, eyes raking over the crowd till he found Charlie and Raleigh, chin lifting in wordless thanks to Salem before he turned back to the crowd. “ _Michi-kun_ ,” Michi stuck his tongue out at Patrick who laughed, “ _and I are really excited to release this volume. It won’t be the last, but it’s certainly significant. When we originally started writing this series over five years ago before we’d ever even met in person – we met in a manga chatroom actually – some things were discussed about the two main characters, Kaede and Ridley. You’ve all talked about it online. Between the two of us, we cyberstalked fan sites quite a bit. Read a lot of fanfiction if I’m honest._ ”

Michi blushed and shook his head. “ _You’re being too honest_ ,” he muttered while the crowd cheered, clapped, and laughed.

Nodding, Patrick continued, “ _Even our agent and publisher have been on us about either going for it or fizzling it out. I don’t want to spoil it, but maybe I already have? Sorry. There have been some major changes in both our lives the last couple years, and we both felt we were in a place to make a decision on it instead of dancing around it for another volume. I think in honor of that, and that we sold the rights to the first three volumes and have several people we trust adapting the books into movies, both of us decided to stand up and be proud of what we created. We’re incredibly proud of this series, and incredibly thankful to all of you to supporting this series. You’re all so incredible. Also thank you to our agent, Ryu-san, for helping us make this such a success, our publisher for actually picking this up even though I don’t think they thought it would go anywhere except people’s trash bins, and to our families for being such an endless source of inspiration. Especially to Daiki-san for translating this whole speech to the two loves of my life._ ”

Michi grinned and bowed his head at the crowd. “ _This is why I let him talk. He’s much better at it than me. I am, after all, a simple singer._ ” The teenagers laughed and cheered while Michi waved and nodded to someone behind the crowd. “ _We’ll set up for signing, and the books are now out. Kindly wait at least two days before posting spoilers online. This isn’t even out until tomorrow. We’re giving it to you early._ ”

Salem turned to Charlie as everyone disbursed excitedly. “I’m lways shocked when I hear Patrick speaking _such_ flawless Japanese.”

“He’s better than _you_ ,” Bailey teased as he brushed passed.

“Fuck off! This from a man who still can’t string together a sentence,” Salem tossed back lightly while Bailey laughed.

“Daddy!” Raleigh squealed, practically leaping from Charlie’s arms to wrap himself around Patrick.

“No, no, stay with papa,” Patrick said as he hugged Raleigh and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He leaned passed Raleigh to peck Charlie’s lips and grin at both of them excitedly. “Daddy has to go sign some books and then we can go home, okay?”

“Go home with Uncle Salem?”

“Yep, munchkin,” Patrick nodded as his eyes met Charlie’s.

“Congratulations, Pattycake. Feel better?”

“Yeah, went well, I think,” Patrick intoned with a brilliant smile that Charlie returned, feeling pride well in him for his fiancé. “I saw my mam. And Rory. I’m not going to let her ruin tonight. I don’t want to talk to her. Michi and I have the signing and then the press junket. And then tomorrow I will, maybe, let us all grab lunch with her if she promises to remain civil.”

Charlie nodded and gave Patrick another kiss. “Sure, love, I’ll ask them. Ryu’s glaring at you. Go sign books for your fanclub.”

“Fuck you very much,” Patrick sighed before pressing a kiss to Raleigh’s cheek and darting off towards his agent.

“Daddy’s happy?” Raleigh asked Charlie.

“Yeah, munchkin, daddy’s happy. And so are we, right?” Charlie inquired, meeting Raleigh’s eyes as their son looked up at him with an innocent guileless smile that said more than words ever could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to cry and hyperventilate like we're almost done...I...um...I'm going to have a panic attack. I need a paper bag and tissues and ice cream, but I just always need ice cream


	60. "Home" by One Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rehearsal dinner and the end.

**Gallagher confirms relationship with Charlie Beck**

It’s been speculated for months that former _Ethereal_ costars, Patrick Gallagher and Charlie Beck, have been in a relationship that stretched beyond friendship. Gallagher’s son, Raleigh, took Beck’s last name in addition to being co-parented in Beck’s Hollywood Hills mansion since _Ethereal_ filming wrapped in March and being taken on by Beck’s high-end agent, Clifford Bishop. Independent of their son, the pair have been spotted all over Los Angeles on dinners and lunches, on each other’s sets, and being taken to premieres and galas, but an official confirmation of their relationship had never been issued. While releasing the fifteenth volume of manga series, _The Infernal Divine_ , alongside j-pop sensation, Michi Kimura, Gallagher referred to Beck and his son as ‘the two loves of his life’ before confirming to Japanese tabloid, _Shukanshi_ , that he and Beck were engaged! Looks like it’s official: both Gallagher and Beck are off the market.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

It’s good to be at home with my favorite people: munchkin and @CharlieBeck

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ we’re not at home. We’re @joansonthird because you pretend you can’t cook.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. #speakenglish #monolingual

 

**RT by @Salem_Daiki, @ArthurBailey, @13poppies**

**Kimura Michi (@Kimura_Michi)**

@StPatty_ Monolingual? You speak Japanese like a native! #liar

 

**actualsunshinechaz**

Ok but has anyone seen the pics of our fav little family at Santa Monica Pier?

#dying of feels #actual sunshine chaz #sweet munchkin Raleigh #luck of irish pattycake #adorable #family feels

**herewherewelay**

Ok but has anyone seen Charlie Beck confirmed he’d be playing Prince Laurent of Vere in the upcoming film of Captive Prince?

#like i love family feels #but yoooo captive prince #the movie #with chazza in it #someone kill me now and save Charlie Beck the trouble #for reals

**namethestarschatrick**

What? 21greatnoble is this true?

#i’m in such shock #tell me the truth #i know who you are

**21greatnoble**

Yes, it’s true. I’m fangirling like the rest of you

#he did this on purpose #he knows its one of my faves #what an asshole

 

**Charlie Beck confirms role in _Captive Prince_**

Mere months after his coming out, Charlie Beck confirms role in gay romance/fantasy/action novel based on the bestselling book series, _Captive Prince: Volume One_. While it seemed a surprise to most people that he took the roll on the heels of both his coming out and the confirmation of his engagement with Patrick Gallagher, Beck himself issued a statement. “It’s my best friend’s favorite book series…well, second favorite. He’s somewhat a connoisseur of LGBT novels. Anyway, my agent called me as soon as production was confirmed. I have an enormous love of all things that make waves, I suppose. This is an LGBT movie trying to be brought to the masses. Whether it does well or whether it flops doesn’t matter. I want to be a part of it especially since I think Laurent is such a quiet badass. Definitely not going to be one we let Raleigh see for a while, though,” Beck stated during an interview with _Access Hollywood._

**Anonymous commented:** YESSSSSSS I’m so excited that I might die.

**alittlechaos commented:** Charlie Beck in a gay romance film!!!!! Just kill me please

**my_princeofvere commented:** Charlie Beck in THIS gay romance film. No need to kill me. I’m already dead.

**slave_to_sensation commented:** Even if this movie flops we will still get to see Charlie Beck liplocking with Dominic Riordan. Heaven help me I’m struggling.

**Anonymous commented:** I’ve literally never been so happy about anything in my life

**Anonymous commented:** These fags and their little fag films need to stop

**heavenineheather commented:** Homophobic people like you need to stop existing.

**nicola_verinia commented:** If you don’t like it, don’t watch it. Go bury your head in the sand or your dick in vagina to prove what a manly man no-homo laddie bro pal your are.

**jazzy.jacinta commented:** He can get vag? He can’t even be homophobic off anon. Just saying.

 

To: chazandstpatty@gmail.co.uk

From: elise.reinhart@whiteweddings.com

Subject: Wedding stuff and rehearsal dinner

Chaz and Patty,

Everything is all set and ready to go. I have your venue booked up July next year. Your wedding at the New York Library and your reception in the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens. Your caterer’s confirmed. Wedding cake is all ready to go. I’ve heard back from both your tailors (because god forbide you both don’t get your suits form the same place). I’ve even booked up the venue for the rehearsal dinner at The Water Club. We’re all set and ready to go. Now all we do is wait.

Sincerely,

Elise Reinhart

 

**Raleigh Beck: Child Style Icon**

Not to be outdone by his adoptive father, Raleigh Beck, seems set to become a style icon in his own right. The pint-size celebrity is only two months past shooting his first movie, already seeming prepped for it to become a smash hit. Not only has he wrapped shooting, he’s also been confirmed as cast in a movie about the French Revolution, an episode of Law & Order: SVU, and a historical film called _Antebellum_ alongside his adoptive father, Charlie Beck, about the South post-Civil War. He’s also debuted in the modeling industry, shooting for his grandmother’s line, Daphne, as well as Burberry Kids. For Halloween, the tiny style maven stepped out in costume as a maskless Kylo Ren, scar over his eye and all with his parents dressed as stormtroopers. He even went to the premiere of _Goliath_ featuring Mikala Hina dressed head to toe in Versace alongside his equally trendy parents. Gallagher said about his son’s fashion, “He started by wearing Chaz’s clothes so it’s absolutely no surprise that he’s so into fashion. He shames me when I wear things he doesn’t like. It’s insanity.” Beck went on to say, “It’s adorable. Between [Arthur Bailey] and I, he built up a hefty wardrobe. Then he learned I love to shop and started collecting his own. I’ve nothing to say about it. It makes me happy…which pisses off Patty well enough.” We can’t say much about that, but we can say that we hold nothing but excitement for the future fashions of Raleigh Beck.

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

Thanksgiving with my favorite peoples @SinTatu @madgerman @Jazz_StyleGroupUK @CharlieBeck @StPatty_

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@notthecountry: aucle issy you make the worst potatoes. Gross. Papa and Daddy say so too.

 

**Israel (@notthecountry)**

@CharlieBeck @StPatty_ I know you two put him up to this! My potatoes are fantastic. You tell your little tyrant I said that!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

What to do when the only thing the munchkin wants for Christmas are tickets to @breakingfourth tour

 

**RT by @Nic_Kinsey, @MC_Cross, @BenjiDIrving, @DorianII, @Cherrie_TA**

**Cris Emerson (@Cris_Emerson)**

@StPatty_ buy him tickets of course! :P

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@Cris_Emerson @breakingfourth will this be good clean family fun, cotton?

 

**Micah Cross (@MC_Cross)**

@StPatty_ @breakingfourth define good and clean and family???

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ @MC_Cross @breakingfourth so that means no…right?

 

**Rebecca Harbourne (@LadyLibby)**

First Christmas without my kids :’(

 

**Tasha Petrovna (@Mama_Petrovna)**

@LadyLibby it’s ok I’m still around. It’ll be me, you, the men, and vodka.

 

**Daphne Beck (@13poppies)**

Christmas with my ever expanding crew…and the fam. But mostly: the crew

 

**RT by @StPatty_**

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

Everyone’s talking about the massive Christmas party @SinTatu is throwing. @StPatty_ and I are over here being parents.

 

**Hollis McQueen (@Mc_QueenHolly)**

Bringing in the New Year with my favorite people @OfficiallyEvelyn @DexterCarroll @SightsOnSienna @CharlieBeck @StPatty_ @notthecountry @ScoutCinema @Anders_onset @Taylor_Davis @MahonOftheStar @PenneyDear #ethereal #reunion

 

**Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show, a family affair**

Irishborn model, Ra-Ra Ahearne, brought in another year as a Victoria’s Secret model by wrangling her whole family to the event. We’re not even kidding. Both her mother and father came in a show of support along with her elder brother, David, who works as a guardian for Raleigh Beck in Los Angeles and younger brother and university student, Brian. Uncle, Cody Hughes, brought his children, Adam (aged 19), Bridget (18), and Anna (16). Her grandparents, Norah and Murphy, came down form Cork, Ireland along with Ahearne’s cousin, Shannon (23), a publicist with Sterling and Ireland. Also in attendance was both Patrick Gallagher (26) and fiancé, Charlie Beck (23), along with Gallagher’s son, Raleigh (4), his mother Kennedy and her husband Rory Doherty. They weren’t the only ones either, renowned British designer, Charlotte Harbourne, and supermodel daughter, Daphne Beck, came in a show of support as well as Konstantin Kimura-Petrov (25), protégé and sister Kimura Izumi (20), and footballer Arthur Bailey (23) all of whom are close to the family. Not only did they show up looking like they’d stepped straight off the runway, they took their support to an afterparty with Irial Dorian Grayson and Cris Emerson, the latter having perform one of the songs off his solo album, _Uphill Battle_ , during the fashion show. We don’t know about you, but we’re super glad to see the entire Gallagher clan out and about and looking absolutely fabulous.

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

Happy birthday to the best thing in my life that I never knew I wanted. You’re the best part of my world, Raleigh.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

It’s our little munchkin’s fifth birthday. I’m so happy and incredibly proud that you’re a part of my life. Love you lots, munchkin.

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

Guess who showed up for my favorite little man’s birthday? So ready to see my adorable little godchild :D

 

**_Light Echo_ premiere gets adorable**

It seems like everyone in acting turned up to the to premiere of sci-fi movie, _Light Echo_ , not only its stars, Mikala Hina, Nicya Monoya, Rianne Ziradana, and Charlie Beck, but also their star studded friends and family including Kala’s step-sister and popstar, Elena Valence, Nicya’s husband Sebastien Oliver Loeb, Rianne’s new boyfriend, Soren Reid, and Charlie’s fiancé, Patrick Gallagher. Also along for the ride was Beck’s absolutely adorable adoptive son, Raleigh Beck, who showed up to the premiere in black Burberry trousers and blazer, a star print Burberry button-up, and a fedora. The five-year-old actor stole the show, prancing across the red carpet and charming celebrities and press members alike. He gave a notable interview to _E!_ where he spent five minute oscillating between talking about filming _Law & Order_ and chatting about how nice the cast of _Light Echo_ was and his cameo onscreen during one of his numerous visits to set. Raleigh Beck seems to have captured the heart of Hollywood at only five years old. We can’t wait to see what he has in store for the future.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

The life of an actor: visiting your kid in France over the weekend while you’re shooting in Italy. #whatevenismylife

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck the life of an actor: working on a movie in England so I can actually see both my fiancé and my son #lol #icant

 

**Interview with Patrick Gallagher**

**Interviewer:** “You’re back in England shooting _Neverwhere_ , an adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s novel. How’s that been?”

**Patrick:** “Bleak? I don’t know. I mean, I’m enjoying working on the movie, but I had this whole routine in Los Angeles – or as much a routine as actors can have, I suppose – with Charlie and Raleigh. Now Raleigh’s shooting a movie in Paris and Charlie’s in Italy. It’s all very unsettling.”

**Interviewer:** “I’d imagine that would be hard. Do you see them often?”

**Patrick:** “I always go to Paris on the weekends to spend it with Raleigh, and he’s with David or Poppy or Salem or Shannon during the weekdays anyway. Loves Paris that boy. And shopping. I see Charlie as much as we’re able. He tries to come up every other weekend, but it gets difficult since they travel around Europe for shooting so frequently.”

**Interviewer:** “I know filming wraps for you at the end of the month. Is that mutual across the board for both of them?”

**Patrick:** “Thank God, yes. Raleigh finishes first and then Chazza. We all have plans to meet and take a vacation in Ibiza. I’m last so they’ll be shopping and sunbathing and I’ll be in England working. Awful, my family.”

**Interviewer:** “You busy after that or do you finally get to take a break?”

**Patrick:** “Bit of a break, but not much. We’re off until mid-July Chaz and I get married, but Raleigh goes to shoot the live-action Pinocchio literally right after that while we go on our honeymoon. Then we come back, and Charlie starts shooting the sequel to _Captive Prince_ , and I start working on _Liberty_ about the Irish immigrants struggle in America.”

**Interviewer:** “Honestly do you ever stop working?”

**Patrick:** “I don’t think so! It certainly feels like it. It’s okay. I’ve been chilling by binge-watching _Hit the Floor_ so…there’s that.”

**Interviewer:** ( _laughs_ ) “Anything else you’re interested in seeing these days?”

**Patrick:** “I’m so preoccupied with working or going to my family and friend’s premieres it’s like…” ( _shrugs_ )

**Interviewer:** “That’s so sad. You need to get out and see the world.”

**Patrick:** “I see _way_ too much of it. I’d rather see more of home.”

 

**David Ahearne (@davidahearne)**

It’s good to be home…I never thought I’d ever think of Los Angeles as home. My life is so dark and twisty.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ your spawn is binge-watching Shadowhunters. I didn’t approve this show. He’s 5!!!!

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck maybe you should take him surfing or riding or…something.

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ I did! Now we’re here, and he’s naming things in French.

 

**Patrick Gallagher (@StPatty_)**

@CharlieBeck why are you so appalled? You speak French, right?

 

**Charles Beck (@CharlieBeck)**

@StPatty_ again you’ve completely missed the point.

 

**Text message to Michi**

**Patrick:** You flying in early with Katsu?

**Michi:** Define early?

**Patrick:** Before the wedding starts?

**Michi:** Hahaha we’ll be flying in a week before and touring nyc

**Michi:** Around the same time you, my brother, and Bailey get in.

**Patrick:** Good we need to do some serious editing to the fifth chapter.

**Michi:** I thought we were there for fun not work.

**Patrick:** Work is fun.

**Michi:** :P

 

**Text message from Salem**

**Salem:** We’re about to get on the plane.

**Salem:** Bailey’s being a whiny pissant about this trip

**Salem:** It’s fucking his training regiment

**Charlie:** You need to chillax

**Charlie:** I have a gym membership at Equinox and SoulCycle he can use.

**Salem:** God bless you.

**Salem:** Boarding. See you in like 8ish hrs.

**Salem:** Bring my godson or don’t bother coming.

**Charlie:** You’re coming here moron.

**Salem:** Did I ask?

 

**Charlotte Harboune (@LadyLibby)**

All my family together in one place again <3

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

What does one wear to their best friend’s rehearsal dinner?

 

**RT by @StPatty_**

**Arthur Bailey (@ArthurBailey)**

Clothes that don’t look like they’ve been run over by a truck @Salem_Daiki

 

**Salem Petrov (@Salem_Daiki)**

@ArthurBailey I only have one outfit like that and I’m saving it for the wedding.

* * *

**July 2021**

Raleigh squealed as Salem spun him around in a circle before tossing him bodily to Bailey who only just managed to catch him without any visible effort exerted. Bailey beamed at Raleigh and winked at Salem who tossed his head back with a jovial laugh as he reached out and tugged Bailey down into a light kiss as he tickled Raleigh’s stomach, making him giggle between the pair of them.

“Could you two stop sucking face and sit down please,” Tasha snapped at her son and his boyfriend, leaning into Damien’s side and narrowing her eyes on Kennedy Doherty as she swept into the room with Maggie at one side and Rory trailing behind.

Between Bailey’s righteous hatred, Salem’s understandable revulsion, and Charlie’s sheer protectiveness, Maggie’s presence at their wedding – and rehearsal dinner – had come with strings attached. Both she and Simon checked their phones, cameras, and any other electronic devices at the door including – and _especially_ – Maggie’s voice recorder. And with his mother being so weak-willed when it came to her troubled daughter, it meant Kennedy and Rory weren’t allowed any electronics either just in case Maggie got sticky fingers.

That didn’t mean the rest of their extended groups of friends and family had to accept either his mother or his sister’s presence.

“No love lost there, I see,” Aaron commented as he slunk up beside Patrick, startling him.

“Hey, Aaron!” Patrick greeted him happily, hugging the man briefly before grinning at him. “Didn’t know you’d arrived. How was the flight? How are Sylvia and Hannah? I mean, I saw them a couple months ago but…”

“Slow down. You’re giving him whiplash, Pattycake,” Charlie said as he rested a hand on Patrick’s waist, hooking his chin over Patrick’s shoulder as he grinned broadly at Aaron. Their former bodyguard smiled back at Charlie, absolutely charmed. “Hiya Aaron, love. How _was_ your flight?”

“Lovely, but if you keep upgrading us to first class every time we fly, Sylvia might start getting expectations, then family vacations will never be the same,” Aaron sighed.

Charlie pouted, “But I like to.”

Patrick patted Charlie’s hand while Aaron laughed and shook his head, pointing a warning finger at him. “Stop spoiling my child. What would you do if I did that to yours?”

Charlie laughed and Patrick scoffed, “Everyone spoils ours. If he didn’t work eight hours a day, five days a week who the fuck knows how he’d be?”

“Isn’t working that often against child labor laws?” Hannah inquired as she made her way over, pressing a kiss to Charlie’s cheek in greeting before making her way over to her husband. “Kind of like giving you kid sleeping pills?”

“I’m going to kill Poppy,” Charlie groaned, burying his head in the crook of Patrick’s neck as he laughed. “You don’t understand I was desperate,” Charlie mumbled, his voice muffled.

Hannah and Aaron laughed, shaking their heads simultaneously. They shared a long, soft glance that seemed both nostalgic and loving and infinitely sweet, an intimacy between two people who shared a life together and had made memories together. Hannah ran a hand through her hair and turned back to the pair of them, her cheeks dust with a light blush as she cleared her throat delicately.

“God, imagine if you’d had him as a baby. I remember when Sylvia was a baby, she cried for _days_ , for _hours_. And when she had colic…” Hannah groaned exhaustedly.

Aaron laughed and shook his head, rubbing a hand on his forehead. “When she was a newborn we were operating on mere hours of sleep at a time. If she wouldn’t have died _I’d_ have dosed her with sleeping pills.”

Hannah elbowed him and shook her head, not disagreeing as she turned back to them. “What do you think? Going to have anymore kids?”

They both stilled, and Patrick glanced over at Charlie hesitantly, feeling the tension in every line of his fiancé’s body. It wasn’t something Patrick had ever actively thought about even before Raleigh had been born, having kids had always seemed like a long way off into the future and nothing to be considered when he was still young and living in the thick of the Hollywood world. Even after they’d found themselves with custody of a shell-shocked toddler and getting domestic with him, Patrick hadn’t considered having any more children in anything other than the abstract. It just seemed like a hell of a lot of work when they were already so busy.

But he…maybe…wanted some. Soon-ish.

Just one or two, like he’d once offhandedly mentioned to Charlie.

In six years, they’d be somewhat more settled in New York with Raleigh in middle school and at least one of them in New York at all times with him. Patrick knew, if he was honest with himself, that he’d be the one based in New York since Charlie both preferred and was better suited to films, and Patrick enjoyed the repetition and routine that came with working on set in television shows. He could undoubtedly find a tv show in New York to work on while Raleigh went to school, and if they did decide to have more kids, they’d have years to build a home and a family in relative stability.

And Patrick wanted that. He wanted to build a family with Charlie, wanted Raleigh to have siblings to play with and argue with and explore with. He wanted that a lot more than he ever thought he would, but he want it he did…and a lot.

Slowly, cautiously, his eyes moved away from the couple standing across from him to Charlie whose gaze was unfocused but unmoving on something – or nothing – beyond Aaron and Sylvia. As if feeling Patrick’s gaze on him, Charlie’s eyes flickered to meet his, cheeks coloring as he ducked his head and cleared his throat. “I mean…” he started uneasily, “it’s something worth talking about, I suppose.”

Patrick beamed at Charlie while Hannah turned her head and tried to stifle a smile as Aaron shook his head at the pair of them, hustling Hannah away from them to the table and over to where Sylvia was deep in conversation with Patrick’s cousin, Anna.

“What’s worth thinking about?” Poppy asked as she came up to them, slipping an arm through Charlie’s and not at all subtly dragging the pair of them towards the head table where Raleigh had settled himself between Salem and Bailey, utterly disregarding the seating chart. Jazz and Israel sat across from the pair of them.

Both Salem and Israel hadn’t bothered to dress like anyone other than themselves for something as trivial as a rehearsal dinner, seeing that they’d be accommodating societal constraints enough by showing up the next day in appropriate attire for the people acting as best men-ish-people. Salem would be trading his acid wash red skinny jeans and plaid top with a see-through skull on the back for a Burberry suit he’d surely stolen off his boyfriend. Whereas Israel had agreed to trade in hir camouflage cargo pants and Deadpool sweatshirt for an Alexander McQueen harness ruffle dress that Jazz had single-handedly talked hir into with only a few seconds of batted eyelashes and what amounted to a ‘pretty please.’

Patrick appreciated it nonetheless.

Their wedding was far from traditional as it was. They didn’t need any help by having both their sort of best men showing up in street clothes that even raised eyebrows on the street. Raleigh had already decided to walk down the aisle in a dot patterned Gucci suit that looked pink – _salmon_ at worst, Charlie insisted. It was fucking pink with a _graffiti_ print Fendi shirt.

He looked busy, but Raleigh had only sighed and declared that to be the fashion.

Charlie had agreed and promptly called Patrick fashion-challenged.

“Having a gaggle of giggling little brats to call us papa and daddy respectively,” Charlie said with a grimace, words blasé enough for Patrick and Poppy to both pick up on his purposeful prodding of Patrick. His only response was to flip off his fiancé while Charlie laughed and pressed a kiss to his sister’s cheek in greeting.

Poppy rolled her eyes. “You both suck. You need to get in a fight and break up so I can feel better about my love life, yeah? It’s been appalling of late.”

“Does that mean you’ve stopped sleeping with my cousin?” Patrick inquired hopefully. Not that he’d truly minded…only a little weirded out about their families being quite so intimately intertwined. Then again, Salem had given Charlie a promise ring, and Libby and Poppy both spoke about him like he was a member of the immediate family, a blood relation, and always had been.

Even Charlie found that weird.

“We were _experimenting_. Now that we’ve experimented, we’re done. I mean, we’re still living together but that’s because she’s a decent roommate.”

“Can you really know that if you both make lots of money and hire a maid to clean twice a week?” Charlie mused.

Poppy sighed, “What would _you_ know about it? Have you ever had a roommate?” When Patrick and Charlie exchanged a pointed look, Poppy sighed again, this time exasperatedly. “Each other doesn’t count. You’re roommates for life starting tomorrow.”

“Or until divorce,” Patrick pointed out.

“You’re been spending too much time with our father,” Poppy returned, plopping into her seat as they reached the table.

Neither of them had truly considered divorce, but they’d both let their respective managers and Harry goad them into signing a prenup anyway. With Raleigh in the mix, they didn’t want to take the chance of something happening down the line that would spiral into a messy and emotionally draining divorce when they had Raleigh to focus on.

“Ready?” Patrick asked as he leaned into Charlie, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

Charlie glanced over at him with a bemused look in his eye. “I wasn’t the one pretending to be straight for years. Are _you_ ready?”

“Touche, Sunshine,” he retorted while Charlie laughed.

They stood at the head of the tables for a moment, looking out over the assembled guests at their rehearsal dinner. They’d tried to keep it small for the dinner since it was both on a yacht that meant they couldn’t runaway from everyone if someone started a fight and their wedding had gone from a ‘small affair’ to having a couple hundred guests when they’d started including people they knew, worked with, associated amicably enough with that they’d be snubbed if they weren’t invited, recent castmates, former castmates, business associates, and God help both of them with their extended families.

Even the rehearsal dinner had gotten to be quite the affair despite putting a severe cut on the guest list to only immediate family only. That meant all of Patrick’s twenty-one-person family including both aunts, Irene’s new boyfriend, Cody and his date, both Rowan’s current wife, Kelly, and his eldest daughter’s mother, Carrigan, then all nine cousins, and his dreadful sister and her husband. Charlie had reciprocated reluctantly, inviting his mother, her husband, Kaja and her fiancé, and Patricia with her current date, his cousin Sadie, his grandmother from Australia, all three of Patricia’s kids, Jarek and Lorraine, Poppy, and even Samuel, Sienna, and their new baby, Sicily Beck. Then there’d been Salem and Bailey, Michi and his boyfriend Katsu, Izumi, their parents, Salem’s mother and Damien, and Salem’s grandmother Katarina. Aaron, Hannah, and Sylvia. Israel and Jazz. Sinclair and Tinzy. Harry Benton-Sterling, Rosie Ireland, Brandon Greer, Alexander Sullivan, and Maverick. Kimberly Lakshmi and her Russian figure skater girlfriend, Kseniya Rudnitskya. Hollis McQueen and her boyfriend Travis. Anders and Scout. Taylor Davis, Dexter Carroll, Mahon Orion, Penney Dear, and Evelyn. Then, of course, there was Raleigh.

All of this on a beautiful yacht drifting peacefully on the river as it circled Manhattan. The lighting dim, the decoration tasteful, the mood intimate. Everything was light and white, seeming almost sterile if it wasn’t for the abundance of flowers in centerpieces or draped from the roof of the light on deck tent. Candles glowed an effervescent, calming yellow-orange and lit up the falling darkness as twilight gave way to a night with too few stars, though not necessarily an unexpected occurrence given their location in such a light-polluted city.

Nevertheless, the evening seemed peaceful, tranquil, serene.

Patrick could almost forget that life hadn’t settled, hadn’t worked itself out just because he was getting married tomorrow. He still wasn’t talking to his elder sister. He still hadn’t forgiven his mother for a whole list of personal trespasses against both him and his family. He still didn’t know how to be anything other than awkward with Evelyn even if both Evelyn and Charlie, with help from Raleigh, seemed to have moved on. He still couldn’t look at any of his biological aunts and uncles, or his Aunt Kelly and Uncle Brian without revulsion, disgust, and dismay. He still had to watch Uncle Rowan and Aunt Kelly’s children, Murphy and Moira, grow up as intolerant as their parents.

The whole imagine in front of him was an illusion, but a cherished one.

That night and most of the next day, he could pretend everything in his family was all right. After that, he and Charlie were bound for Thailand for a couple weeks before returning to the real world and the real problems they both had put on hold to get married.

Instead of dwelling, Patrick decided to appreciate the temporary reprieve.

“Welcome, friends…countrymen,” Patrick teased.

Charlie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help himself, “Lend me your ears.”

Reaching up, Patrick tugged on his ear lightly. “We want to thank all of you for coming out tonight, though we know it was mostly for the free food or the surprisingly well-behaved five year old you came to see, not our charming company. Let’s all just pretend. Makes us feel special.” Everyone laughed, and Patrick turned to Charlie.

“Yes, thank you to our families and friends, you are all amazing, though I’m sure it helped that most of you had accommodation and transportation paid for. Nice attempt, by the way, Salem. You tried, but I _know_ how much money you make. We have the same accountant.”

“Do we actually?” Salem shouted in shock, slumping back in his seat with surprise written all over his face. He shook his head and pointed a finger at Charlie. “I had him first. Clearly, you’re a thief.”

“Not likely,” Charlie sniffed. “We also want to thank the staff of this lovely venue who decorated, catered, and are keeping this vessel afloat. Honestly, I can do a lot but sailing’s not one of them. _I_ want to thank Raleigh. You’ve been so blessedly well-behaved even though I know Uncle Salem’s tempting you to misbehave.” Raleigh beamed brightly at the pair of them while Bailey shot Salem a thoroughly unimpressed look when he smirked unabashedly. “And we’d like to give two extra special thank yous to Harry Benton-Sterling and his team who made the existence of this day possible, and Elise Reinhart who handled all of our various wedding needs no matter how demanding.”

Their family clapped politely while Elise blinked up from the back of the room, started and flushing from the attention. Charlie took his seat while Patrick winked at Elise who shook her head, dazed, and rushed into the backroom of the yacht. “And now we eat!” Pressing his lips together, Charlie shook his head and looked up at Patrick who frowned, “Oh…now we prepare to eat and let other people talk, right?”

“Right,” Israel interrupted, getting to hir feet with hir wineglass in hand. Ze took a sip of hir white wine and smiled genially. “Hello everyone, I’m giving a roast…toast? Toast. Isn’t this is preparation for tomorrow or is this like a totally different thing?”

“Just talk bitch,” Salem ordered with a long-suffering sigh.

Israel flipped him off, and Patrick’s grandparents chuckled while his aunts, mother, and uncle seemed to swoon from shock. Clearing hir throat and tugging on the hem of hir shirt, Israel nodded. “I met Patrick…a long time ago. During his audition for _Ethereal_ actually. I’d walked in furious because our casting director had hired Evelyn despite the fact she got me thrown off the writing team of a movie I’d been previously working on because she was incapable of acting the way her character was _supposed_ to and she was screwing the producer so…”

Evelyn dropped her head into her hands while Israel nodded, and Patrick gaped.

“Right. I knew right away he was going to be drama. I was right. I was especially right when Charlie showed up on set, and he practically drooled over him, and then went right ahead and pretended for years like he had no recollection of the first time they met at Vans Warped Tour. Yes, by met I mean banged because damn, Patty was a slut.”

“Oh my God,” Patrick moaned, dropping his head against Charlie’s shoulder.

Charlie was laughing so hard he could barely breathe…until Salem stood up.

“Can I cut in?”

“By all means,” Israel nodded, the pair of them seemed practiced enough to make Patrick think this little dance was deliberate.

“What is he doing?” Charlie inquired tensely.

“Chazza was also quite the slut.” Charlie’s mouth fell open in an ‘O’ of surprise, and Bailey stuck a pair of earbuds in Raleigh’s ears, flipping on his mobile phone and glaring up at Salem who seemed unbothered. “Seriously, the first time we met was when he was filming in Boston. I was still in college there, and we went on maybe one date – to Legal Seafoods and then this great dessert place next door, Café Suisse, before we ended up having sex back in his hotel room. Sorry Mom. We dated for about a year, more or less, before we broke up because his management threatened to…well…they threatened. The months between then, Charlie screwed practically everything moderately attractive that moved, including Patrick at Vans Warped Tour.”

“At least he didn’t knock anyone up,” Israel pointed out.

“There’s that,” Salem nodded before pausing. “Well, he’s _gay_ so…”

“Fair enough.” Israel nodded, “The point is the two _got around_.”

“Make them stop,” Charlie moaned.

Patrick was too busy being mortified by their friends to even consider asking them to stop.

“But…” Israel continued.

Salem nodded, “But even when they weren’t together, they were some kind of tragically beautiful.”

“Pining often is, and God, did they _pine_ ,” Israel huffed.

“They absolute did, and they lived together and fought each other because instead of just being together they were too busy pretending that they couldn’t be, because Salem had convinced himself – or rather let himself be convinced – that Patrick was straight.”

“And Patrick had convinced _himself_ Charlie was better off without him, but damn, they were both wrong. And stupid. And stupidly wrong in the way only men can be, and of which Salem, here, has absolutely no ground to stand on.”

Salem smiled sheepishly, “Guilty. But they found their way to each other in the end. They found each other overcame a lot together: their pasts, the management, the studio, institutionalized homophobia, forced closeting, shitty contracts, dating other people, their lack of a sex life because even after they got together they still couldn’t, you know, get it together.”

Israel nodded, “ _Men_.” Their families laughed, and Patrick squeezed Charlie’s hand where it rested atop their thighs, pressed together under the table. “They overcame their fears and their doubts and their challenges, every hurtle that came their way. They came together for each other and for love and for Raleigh. And that’s what marriage is all about: becoming one with someone and promising to stand together no matter what gets thrown at you that could tear you apart. No one’s perfect. No marriage is perfect. There will be fights and there will be complications.”

“There might someday even be a dry spell or two,” Salem added mournfully. Charlie giggled and squeezed Patrick’s hand back. “But if anything, the two of you have proved you’re ready to try. To be in it for the long haul. And to say, even if it does end, that you don’t regret trying. Israel and I wish you two the very best of luck with whatever comes next, and promise to pick up the slack of partying on your behalf since you’ll both be off being boring and domestic and married.”

“Too late,” Israel teased.

Patrick looked at Charlie before leaning over to give him a kiss.

No, he didn’t at all think he’d ever regret Charlie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg it's over and like I can't even put cry-y emojis. I'm just dead. It's been an absolute joy. Thank you all for reading and reviewing and sticking through this (at least I didn't disappear for half a year this time...damn Behind Closed Doors was rough).
> 
> Ok, so, the next chapter is a short oneshot that I was both challenged to and that had the added bonus of getting rid of my writers block that is about Cris and Iri's dogs, Stassi and Marius, and Snow. I had intended for the short story about Raleigh to be a oneshot (it's not) and because it's 20,000+ words I'm putting it as its own thing-a-ma-jiggy. So I'll post the first chapter of that up tomorrow/today depending on your timezone. I'm going to go have a heart attack and cry now.


	61. For The Dogs-OneShot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stassi's a diva, Snow's whipped around Raleigh's finger, Junebug hates everyone, and Marius has to wonder why he's the only one normal

“We have a visitor.”

That’s what Marius told Stassi as he trotted across the expanse of lawn to where Stassi had settled herself on a lawnchair with all the grace and poise of a queen’s pampered pet. But she wasn’t a pet, she’d often remind him firmly. Stassi was a canine. A majestic, untamed, borderline feral canine. Wild as her wolf ancestors before her, and if Marius disagreed, well, he knew better than to say so.

Stassi lifted her head from where he’d been rested it against the striped, fraying cushion and lazily blinked her blue eyes at Marius before she sat up, ears flickered forward attentively, and eyes wide on the house where she could undoubtedly hear the shrill, excited barking of their…guest. Slowly her head turned towards Marius.

He would have sighed if he was capable of it.

Without another comment, she rose to her paws, shaking dappled, silky fur off before hopping down and trotting to the half open window overlooking the garden. The light breeze ruffled Stassi’s long fur as she sprinted across the yard and leapt up to lean through the open window, resting two paws on the windowsill as she nudged the sleeping Bengal cat on the ledge.

Once upon a time, Junebug had been a tiny little thing that had startled every time Marius barked at her. She’d shriek and yowl and race to the safety of their masters’ bedroom to huddle beneath the bed with low growl building in her chest and her reflective eyes wide with both fright and fury. The tall thin master who was often away would sigh. The shorter one would laugh even as he swatted Marius away and ordered him to be nicer to Junebug. He never had, though, not until Junebug had tripled in size and gotten her lengthy, painful claws into his snout.

That had been sufficient enough deterrence.

Junebug glared first at Marius before registered Stassi, blinking at her down at her disdainfully.

“Can I help you with something? Dog?”

Marius sighed. Stassi growled. Junebug licked between her sharp, hooked claws in wordless threat, half-lidded eyes on Stassi who wisely chose not to antagonize the cat any further.

“ _What_ is _that_?” Stassi growled.

_That_ stumped Junebug who stilled and turned her head, glowing eyes following the fluffy, white, exuberant dog as it nuzzled against the giggling, tiny human with long hair. Last time he’d played here, Marius had taken those long locks between his teeth and tugged on them to see if they were real. They were. The boy had cried, and the boy’s canine had snarled at him to stay away from ‘his human’ until Stassi had stepped in. Relations between them were not the best.

Junebug turned back to Stassi slowly. “You don’t _really_ need me to answer that? Do you? This is one of those dog things, isn’t it?”

Stassi glared at the cat whose licked her paw, unbothered by Stassi’s display of temper. “Not all of us are ruled by our emotions. Maybe you should stop being such an elitist. Like being a wild dog is anything to be proud of.”

“Unlike being a feral cat?” Marius taunted back as the hair on Stassi’s back stood up, every muscle in her body preparing for a sharp comment at Junebug that would draw the humans’ attention.

Stilling, Junebug turned to Marius and huffed, “Cats rule the streets in clans. We might be mangy and tough, but we’re not being picked up by men with sticks and carted off to jail, mutt.”

“Junebug!” A cheerful voice startled all three of them as Snow balanced on the ledge and licked Junebug in a happily, overly familiar greeting. Stassi growled at Snow while Junebug blinked, dazed and surprised but not overly scandalized as Marius had expected.

Junebug cocked her head considering. “Snow. You’re back. Again. How’s Solo?”

“He’s growing. He’s weird. He takes stupid risks and jumps on things he ought to know not to and most recently he’s taken to hunkering down on top of the fridge and crying for hours. But, he’s Solo so. I’ll tell him you asked about him.”

“I like that cat,” Junebug said agreeably.

Stassi’s tail twitched angrily. “You’ve never even met him.”

“Smelt him on Snow’s coat though. He smells like adventure. Like a good time. Like he knews the best spots to nap. I don’t _need_ to know him,” Junebug retorted as she settled back down on the ledge. “Here comes the master.”

Stassi sat down beside Marius, head cocked as the door opened. The child was the first out with a gleeful yell as he collapsed onto the grass with his hands wrapped around a monochromatic patterned ball. The fluffy, white, blue-eyed, three-legged canine Stassi _loathed_ and Marius felt merely ambivalent towards trotted out behind him, eyeing the two of them distrustfully.

The shorter of their masters crouched down in front of the pair of them, and Stassi, suddenly docile, licked the man’s cheek as he stroked her fur. Reaching out, he patted Marius’s head, a gesture he accepted, uncomfortable with the intensity of Snow’s gaze on them. “Let’s all play nice today, shall we? Which means no eating small children’s hair or snarling at each other with a toddler present, alright?”

“Is he talking to _me_?” Stassi demanded, outraged, even as she nuzzled against him.

“Well he’s not talking to _me_ ,” Snow spoke from where she sat like a sentry in front of the child.

“Be good,” their human told Stassi and Marius firmly before going back inside.

The pair of them exchanged a look.

Snow seemed exceptionally smug. “Do your master’s often tell you off for bad behavior?”

“Do you also guard your little human like he’s worth his wait in bacon bits and treats?” Stassi retorted, and Marius, unwilling to intervene in the fight, laid his belly down on the cool grass, eyes following the little human as he chased after the ball that went left and right as he kicked it against the fence with too much force. _Humans_.

“He’s my human to protect. That’s what we do.”

“We’re not _pets_. We’re _canines_. A proud and noble species that don’t follow humans around like ducklings following their mother,” Stassi spat, offended.

Marius didn’t think it was that serious, especially not coming from a female that melted into a puddle of love, adoration, and obedience when her own master entered her vicinity. Stassi was not a nice dog, but let their short master or even his mate but sheer association approached her, and suddenly Stassi turned from a feral beast into a tamed unassuming cherub. It was as confusing as it was nauseating, but Marius had to live with Stassi and would never do anything to get on the bitch’s bad side.

Snow simply stared at Stassi drolly before replying evenly: “You sound like a cat.”

Stassi reeled, and Marius’s head shot up, eyes moving between the two females with wariness and caution that seemed appropriate given the insult leveled. Cats were selfish. Cats were vain. Cats were capricious and disloyal and lazy. Dogs were…none of those things by their very nature. Calling a dog a cat meant they were unnatural, an abomination, wrong in their very basic core. That’s not to say that there was anything wrong with cats (the innate rivalry between them being a fabrication of the worst kind), but dogs behaving like cats was something fundamentally wrong and vice versa.

Even Junebug poked her head up to peer at them uneasily through narrowed eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” Stassi demanded haughtily.

“You. Sound. Like. A. Cat.” Snow repeated this slower, like Stassi was an idiot. Stassi bared her teeth, and the human child tripped and fell over. Trotting over to him, Snow nudged at the dazed boy until he patted Snow’s muzzle affectionately, grabbing her fur to help pull himself up off the ground. Marius winced on her behalf as Snow nuzzled the child who laughed and kissed her head before sprinting for the door, calling for his daddy and papa. Snow turned to face them. “We’re _dogs_. We’re loyalty and warmth and friendship and unconditional love. We’re not the superior breed. We’re the breed that will crawl through the mud, swim across a lake, run through a fire to save the humans we love, to _protect_ the humans we love. We’re not the breed that plays them with calculate efficiency and the scrapes of love we toss at them to keep them hanging on. We don’t play hard to get.”

Junebug leaned out of the window to hiss malevolently at Snow. “I resent that. I love my humans. I protect my humans. I just love me time, you know?”

The three canines stared at her like she’d lost her mind, and Junebug’s whiskers twitched in agitation and exasperation.

“Canines, honestly. Always with the idiotic pack mentality.”

Marius narrowed his eyes at her while Stassi physically turned to sit with her back to the cat. Accepted as pack or not, sometimes they needed pack me-time away from the self-involved feline for their sanity’s sake.

“You love _your_ human, obviously. Why can’t I love mine?”

“You’re…subservient to him.”

“I’m his best friend, and he’s a pup. He doesn’t understand yet, not like we do,” Snow replied. “Besides, what’s so wrong with being a pet as long as we’re not wearing clothes or being carted around in a human pram.”

Stassi recoiled and shared a horrified look with Marius. “Is that something you’ve actually _seen_?”

“It is. A Chihuahua.”

Marius snorted and sat up. “Chihuahuas. They think they’re so amazing. Really. They’re loud. They’re chatty. They’re not even _pets_ , they’re toys. Do we even consider them _dogs_?”

“Wake me up from my nap one more time, mutt, and I won’t even consider you _breathing_ ,” Junebug snapped. “I’m glad doggy-bonding is finished and it’s all happy in pack territory or whatever, but could you all shut up? Take a nap or something? I can never get any peace and quiet around here.”

“Sorry Junebug,” Snow started as Stassi snapped, “No one told you to sit right in an open window.” They glanced at each other.

Junebug sighed, getting to her paws and arching her back, tailing curling as she yawned. She turned her back on them and called back to them, “I hate you all. Ruffians. Barbarians, the lot of you.” With a last flick of her tall she hopped down.

Stassi and Snow glanced at each other, before dissolving into a nest of wagging tails and affectionate nuzzles, collapsing into a pile on the grass. Leaning over, Stassi bites Marius’s tail in a wordless order to join them, which he does so reluctantly, curling around the pair of them and closing his eyes to their whispered neighborhood gossip about Chihuahuas and Pomeranians and their inability to maintain dignity the face of human attention. When he wakes up, it’s to a tiny human body resting between the three of them like a wayward pup not even Snow’s speech can convince him this child _is_ , but nonetheless, Marius likes his long hair affectionately and falls back asleep.

He’s still only ambivalent to Snow, and Stassi dislikes her on the worst days and finds amusement in her on the best but at least no one’s biting human pups now to get their point across. He’d never say it, but the relationship is incredibly feline. Dangerous. Treacherous. Far from happy acceptance. He’s a carefully constructed façade that human will never ever see through. It’s best that way. Humans love to be disillusioned; they honestly think _they’re_ in charge.

Madness.


End file.
